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BEACH-LA-MAR 


THE JARGON OR TRADE SPEECH OF THE 
_WESTERN PACIFIC 


S 


BY 


WILLIAM CHURCHILL 


Sometime Consul-General of the United States in Samoa and Tonga, 
Member of the Polynesian Society, the Hawatian Historical 


Society, the American Philological Association 





PUBLISHED BY 
THE CARNEGIE INSTITUTION OF WASHINGTON 


1911 














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WESTERN PACIFIC 


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CHAPTER I. 
PARENTAGE OF THE JARGON. 


Jargon is the speech of necessity. It is like its mother in that it 
knows not the law by which it is rigidly governed. 

A jargon is a speech of chips and fragments seized wherever found 
and used to such end as may be accomplished by brute force of sheer 
insistence. Because its origin lies in the need of simple men for the 
communication of a selection of their most simple ideas a jargon is 
rude, it is vivid, it is picturesque. Not only does it avail to show us 
to what lowest terms a superior speech may be reduced and yet serve 
as language, but it affords us a valuable insight into the machinery 
and method of the language of the more primal type which stands 
as the party of the second part in every such speech. 

For each jargon has grown into being as the speech of the marches, 
the language of the borderland. 

By this we do not mean the bilingual zone which exists along 
political boundary lines where empires of two speech families come 
together and evade the sentry and the customs officer in a friendly 
smuggling. Where a jargon arises and attains currency there must 
be a marked distinction in the cultural and in the intellectual planes 
of the two languages which march together. This speech osmosis 
is most active in the case where the relatively inferior man of the 
superior speech and culture is brought in small numbers into contact 
with larger masses of folk of the lower development but of more 
consistent average attainment to the maximum of that development. 
In other words, we are to note that the savage maintains much the 
higher average; no member of such a community falls so far short as 
to be regarded as ignorant by his fellows. Under usual social condi- 
tions this contrast of two cultures out of which jargon tends most 
readily to come into being is most commonly attained by the contact 
of our sailors with the savage or imperfectly civilized communities. 

In such cases it is well to bear in mind the classic of the scrivener— 
it is the party of the first part who doth grant, assign and convey; it 
is the party of the second part who most doth have and hold. { Our 
sailor party of the first part is of the unlettered class, he has no ) illu- 


sions about the niceties of language, his speech is not nice at all. An 
1 


2 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


inflection, a shade of meaning, a canon of grammar—he is perfectly 
ready to sacrifice them all if only he may succeed in making himself 
in some sort comprehended. Placed in the same situation the phil- 
ologist, the amateur of the preciosity of speech, would be dead in the 
misunderstanding in about the time that it would take the sailor to 
establish a thriving business on the beach in which iron nails serve 
each as price for a log of sandalwood worth its weight in silver. 
Under this stimulation—and beads are good trade, too—the savage 
is avid to acquire the sailor’s speech and to teach his own. Thus 
jargon best, most commonly, begins. * 

Of the jargons, artificial yet valuable languages, we list the follow- 
ing as among the most conspicuous examples. 

First in order of time, and ona Latin base, was the Lingua Franca 
of the Venetians and Genovese in the Levant, when those Italian 
ports served empires of commerce. By an odd portage among the 
crews of the adventurous fleets of Prince Henry the Navigator, the 
Portuguese (Portingales in the speech of their English rivals) carried 
this jargon to the Malay seas, where it underwent new growth in the 
admixture of Indonesian elements and lives in ready currency. 

Next arose the trade language of the treaty ports of China, the 
still existing Pidgin. Here the base is English. The conditions under 
which it came into being are beautifully typical. The English were 
not of that order of mind which might set itself to the task of acquir- 
ing the highly cultivated language of the Middle Kingdom; nor on 
the terms of their scantily tolerated residence at a few mean points, 
whose infamy was notorious matter of local knowledge, did they 
have the time to engage upon such study. Scorning the inferior 
foreign culture which was so lacking in the dignity of courtesy, the 
Chinese were disposed to acquire only so much of the new language 
as might serve them in business, and a sympathy which can see 
beneath the unruffled calm of Chinese benignity will have no diffi- 
culty in discerning the pleasures of disdain with which consciously 
they mutilated the English speech and when they charily added a 
word or two of their own were sedulous to draw it from the polluted 
speech of the most ignoble classes. 

Of about the same period, but on the other shore of the Pacific, we 
next note the Chinook, the jargon of the fur trade, of the sailors upon 
the sea and the no less adventurous voyageurs du bois. Here the 
conditions were somewhat different; the fur-trader usually estab- 
lished himself in approximately permanent relations with some 
nomadic community of Indians and accompanied them in their wan- 
derings over somewhat well delimited territory. For this reason the 
great mass of this jargon is derived from several Indian languages— 
each, however, subjected to the typical and necessary mutilation. 
The external element is fairly divisible between an English and a 


PARENTAGE OF THE JARGON. 3 


French source, for if the Astoria trappers were users of English the 
rangers of the Hudson’s Bay Company were preponderantly French 
or Breeds. As showing that the importance of jargon study was early 
recognized, we may note in passing that among the earliest of the 
publications of the Smithsonian Institution in its youth was the 
Gibbs dictionary of Chinook. 

Our next example in chronological order is the Beach-la-mar 
jargon of the southern and western Pacific islands with a certain 
extension to the nearest littoral of Australia. It is this which is to 
engage our attention in this study and may therefore be postponed 
in this summary schedule. 

In the Guianas the Negro English, a magma of an already jar- 
goned mass from various African sources, now mingled with English 
and other European material, has been in such use that it has 
advanced toward respectability: the Scriptures have been printed 
in the language. 

Within thirty years a wonderful expansion has taken place in a 
jargon on the west coast of Africa, the Krooboy. The base of this is 
English, but fragments have been caught up from many sources, 
African and European, along a thousand leagues of Gold Coast, 
Ivory Coast, Palm Coast. The spread of this new and rapidly grow- 
ing jargon is due to the fact that merchant vessels find it econom1- 
cally advantageous to supplement their crews with drafts of Kroomen 
for the heavy work of handling cargo on unwholesome beaches. 

It would not be pertinent to the present topic to essay the making 
of a complete list of these languages, lustyin spite of the bend sinister. 
We might readily add the Gombo and the Cajun of Louisiana, the 
batard French of Haiti, the Papimiento and other mixed tongues of 
the West Indies, much of the Spanish of Mexico and of the Latin 
republics. The few which have been presented with a brief note in 
the foregoing paragraphs have been introduced solely for the purpose 
of showing that jargons have a respectable history and that in the 
present time the actuating causes are still potent to create new 
jargons when the conditions are meet. | 

Our present study shall be directed upon the Beach-la-mar, a 
jargon of wide extent but of scanty record; for it has come to its 
growth in a plane far below that in which interest in speech for itself 
becomes active. Thus it has lacked its historian, its records are 
scattered through a few books of travel in the South Sea whensoever 
the crudities of its diction have seemed to the recorder sufficiently 
droll to add a comic touch to descriptive pages. Even of record of 
such sort we find but a brief collection, as will be shown in the notes 
and bibliography following the vocabulary of this treatise. 

There seems no limit to the life of the spoken word; anything 
which pretends to be speech lives on and on and may appear long 


UNIVERSITY OF 


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CHAMPAIGN 


4. BEACH-LA-MAR. 


after and faraway. While this sketch of the Beach-la-mar was taking 
shape the jargon phraseology was reproduced on the witness stand 
in the New York Supreme Court. The witness had solemnly averred 
that King Johnson of a Solomon island “has been going to col- 
lege for forty years and he can read and write as well as any one 
aboard ship.” The statement lacks verisimilitude, but no such 
default attaches to the further testimony of the witness that this 
savage monarch addressed him in the following terms: ‘‘ Long fellow 
man he come ashore, he tell me plenty yarn.”’ 

The name of this jargon gives us some clew to its place and time 
and manner of origin. Beach-la-mar is the common sailor mispro- 
nunciation of béche-de-mer, a name applied to the edible trepang, 
which, as a delicacy to palates sufficiently acute to enjoy the niceties 
of its faint flavor, fetches a high price in the Chinese markets. At 
the time of the beginning of the commercial exploitation of the 
islands of the South Pacific the reefs and lagoon shallows in these 
archipelagoes, more particularly from Fiji along the chains of islands 
of the Western Pacific, abounded in these holothurians. Now, 
although the demand remains as great as ever, these reefs are unpro- 
ductive; they have been fished bare in the absence of a reasonable 
system of protection of this sluggish game. It is only in Fiji, with 
its recent British government, that any attempt has been made to 
restore the depleted waters and under proper supervision to provide 
a source of revenue for the islanders. 

The manner of the first commercial exploitation of the islands we 
shall find germane to the consideration of the genesis of the mixed 
speech which grew out therefrom. The great voyages of European 
explorers, bent upon the discovery of the secrets of the Pacific, 
reached their period of greatest activity in the middle and in the 
latter half of the eighteenth century. Voyages there had been before 
that. Gaetano found the eight islands of the Hawaiian group and 
left no record save a few names dotted on his chart of the way of the 
Manila galleon upon the sea. Quiros and Mendajia sailed for the 
gold of Ophir in the Solomon Islands; they even colonized in the 
northern bay of Espiritu Santo the half-mythical city of a New 
Jerusalem at the mouth of a River Jordan; but their work lacked 
permanence in itself and made no appeal to other adventurers. In 
like manner the exploration of the Pacific did not cease with Cook 
and Vancouver. In the early years of the nineteenth century no less 
lustre was shed by the voyages of the unfortunate La Pérouse and of 
Dumont d’Urville. That century was more than a generation old 
when Wilkes cleared up the secrets which had escaped the zeal of the 
long line of his glorious predecessors. 

Upon the track of these many voyages of scientific geography 
flocked fleets of commercial geographers, merchant seamen intent 


PARENTAGE OF THE JARGON. 5 


upon a lading and a market. First of these came the whalers, three 
years the normal term of their voyages from the southern ice cap to 
the gelid barriers of the north and searching all the warm parallels 
of the equatorial seas between these frozen extremes, their prey the 
right whale and the cachalot. How they crowded these waters after 
exploration had opened the hidden secrets may be seen in one of the 
dashing exploits of not the least of those captains courageous who 
made the American navy great when it was a fleet of wood and snowy 
canvas and stout hearts: Commodore David Porter cut himself 
loose from orders, drove the Essex around Cape Horn, harried the 
Pacific until he had driven off all the Dundee whalemen. Before his 
work was done he was flag officer of a squadron of prizes armed to 
fight with him so deep in its draft upon his wardroom country that 
David Glasgow Farragut was in command of a fighting ship while 
yet he was a midshipmite.* How long the whaling industry con- 
tinued at a profit in these remote seas may be estimated from the 
fact that, in his exhaustive studies of log books from the Pacific, 
Matthew Fontaine Maury found the data from which to compile a 
chart of the whales known to frequent those waters, and, even before 
they had sailed from Fairhaven, from Nantucket or the Vineyard, 
thus to direct the eager hunters to the most profitable feeding- 
grounds. This was as late as the years just preceding the war in 
which the call of his native State drew this great Virginian from the 
science of oceanography, which he had discovered, and wasted him 
in the clash of arms. 

To any one familiar with the sea under conditions of voyaging 
where the hand is prompt to throw the spoke to meet the flicker of 
the after leach of some sail far aloft, it will be readily comprehensible 
that in the whaling fleet we are to find little of the beginnings of our 
Beach-la-mar. Other ships take the sea bound ‘‘from and toward,”’ to 
cite the prepositions duly entered on the pages of every log book. 
It is port which they are seeking, the sea is but the way. But port 





*We may not omit a brief note of a forgotten chapter of our national history. Our 
widely scattered possessions in the Pacific, colonies or dependencies or whatever name 
may be assumed to make constitutional the fruit of war, Hawaii, Wake Island, Guam, the 
Philippines, and Samoa, belong to us by title deeds little advanced into their second 
decade. Only a few days short of a century ago Commodore Porter, neglected when not 
pursued by the active spite of the Commissioners of the Navy, foresaw the Pacific needs 
of those United States which had only in outposts here and there reached the Missis- 
sippi. In the course of these operations of the Essex he annexed the Marquesas by 
solemn act of national sovereignty. This deed of wise prescience was neglected, not even 
disowned. On the site of Fort Madison at his newly founded capital city of Washington- 
ville in the Bay of Taiohae in Nukahiva I have delved in vain for the bottled and buried 
copy of the proclamation of annexation. The filed copy has vanished from the government 
archives; we may draw the conclusion that it fluttered into the waste paper basket from 
the hands of that Secretary of State whose name is forever attached to the Monroe 
Doctrine as—after Washington’s ‘“‘avoid all entangling alliances’’—the first formula of 
our foreignpolicy. This history is most obscure. The result of a very close study of the 
records is presented by Commander E. L. Beach, U.S. N., in “ The Pioneer of America’s 
Pacific Empire: David Porter,’ in‘‘ United States Naval Institute Proceedings XXXIV.” 


6 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


must ever irk the whaleman; he must keep the sea as long as he may; 
the haven where other ships would be is to him but the place in which 
to refit with wood and water to equip him for another campaign 
against the gigantic mammals of fathomless ocean. His contact with 
the shoreward folk must besobrief asto leave little permanent record. 
Thus it is in the Beach-la-mar; only a few expressions or words do I 
find it at all necessary to accredit to whalers’ influence, and those in 
no more than a secondary position. 

Whaling, it should be explained, now that the industry is all 
but extinct, was conducted in a fashion different from merchant 
seafaring; it paid the whalemen on a basis of sharing in the catch. 
The unit was the lay. Each sailor, according to his rating on the 
ship’s articles, was entitled to a lay representing a fixed large or 
small share in the avails of the catch. Accordingly it was the best 
economy to send the vessel out from her home port with only so 
many men as would serve to work her around the stormy capes past 
which were the whaling-grounds. Arrived in the Pacific it was the 
custom to recruit boat’s crews from the islanders, engaged for a wage 
ridiculously small and without reward from the catch. From these 
islanders, thus thrown for months into intimacy with the sailors, 
Polynesian words were acquired to facilitate intercourse, and the 
islanders themselves picked up some slight familiarity with broken 
English interrupted by such Polynesian words as the sailors had 
thought it easy or amusing to acquire. Discharged somewhere at 
the end of the whaling voyage these men, now become competent 
seamen and somewhat proficient interpreters, engaged for new 
voyages, either through their enjoyment of the life or in the hope that 
at some haphazard time they might reach their homes. It is to their 
influence that we may best ascribe the presence of Polynesian words 
readily recognizable as such in the Beach-la-mar, a speech designed 
to facilitate communication with Melanesian peoples to whom the 
Samoan and the Hawaiian are as foreign and incomprehensible as is 
the English. For we should note that there never was a permanent 
jargon based upon English and Polynesian.* ‘Thus in the vocabulary 
we note such words as katkaz and kanaka, in which the whalemen’s 
influence has been carried far. 





*Frederici, however, takes another view, but he advances no argument in support of 
his statement (page 93). 

Von Neu-Seeland im Siidwesten und Hawaii im Nordosten scheint tiberhaupt das 
Siidsee-Pidgin-Englisch seine Laufe tiber die Inseln begonnen zu haben. * * In 
der Mitte des 19. Jahrhunderts scheint eine Art Pidgin-Englisch die Verkehrssprache 
zwischen Weissen und Eingebornen auf allen damals besuchten Inseln der Stidhalfte des 
Grossen Ozeans gewesen zu sein. Wahrend dann aber dieser Jargon in Ostpolynesien 
durch Franzoésisch, auf den Cook-Inseln und Neu-Seeland durch ein leidlich reines 
Englisch und im tibrigen allgemein durch die von den Weissen erlernten Eingebornen- 
Dialekte der polynesischen Inseln zuriickgedrangt wurde, gewann in ganz Melanesien, 
mit ausnahme von West-Neuguinea, das Pidgin-Englisch durch den Arbeiterhandel ganz 
gewaltig an Ausdehnung und Intensitat. 


PARENTAGE OF THE JARGON. 7 


Luck, as in all hunting, entered into whaling. If a ship were too 
long empty her skipper would seek to pick up a dollar as honestly as 
seemed convenient. Forsaking the whale for the season it had seemed 
to forsake him, the whaler would hunt a lading of sandalwood, for 
which he could obtain a fabulous profit in Canton. In the China 
ports he might even load for home with a cargo that promised a good 
return on the voyage. In time sandalwood attracted many adven- 
turous seamen as a trade to prosecute, an industry offering the 
richest rewards. The tree was found growing in untouched forests 
on many islands, and none was too remote to escape the trader. This 
led to a shore sojourn, a closer association with aboriginal races; it 
was in this new condition that the jargon was found to be a necessity 
of communication. The sandalwood is now extinct, not a sapling 
escaped this ransacking, not a tree was held sacred for the per- 
petuation of its kind. But the speech which grew out of its exploita- 
tion endures and has been found adaptable to the needs of newer 
commerce. 

After the sandalwood trade came the béche-de-mer fishery. This 
involved much closer association with the islanders. The master of 
a vessel engaging upon that trade landed, here and there where the 
reefs were promising, one or more of his men to conduct the fishery 
and to smoke the animals so that they might be marketable. Whether 
one man was landed or a companion shared his loneliness, these 
adventurers had to establish communication with the savage folk 
among whom long months were to be passed before the ship would 
return for their takings. 

With these outposts of civilization shedding a murky ray upon the 
simple night of savagery and drawing dark stains upon it should be 
associated the beachcomber. . 

Whatever his lapses from rigidity of morals, whatever his slips in 
deportment, the béche-de-mer fisher, when the reefs remained produc- 
tive, the copra trader which he has become under modern conditions 
(for conditions do change even in the South Sea), these solitaries 
at least professed industry even though it were harshly vicarious. 
They had work to do; there was at least the semblance of the expec- 
tation that they might earn their return to better conditions. The 
beachcomber was in far other case. He was runagate, deserter; a 
score of such dingy men have told me ‘‘the ship lay off this shore 
and I just jumped her.”’ 

How can we, churched and policed, how can we comprehend the 
impulses? Here the ship, the weariness of coarse foods, the hard 
task, the constraint of duty, the first mate; over the rail a cable’s 
length or two or three of soft shimmer of water, warm and buoyant; 
beyond the slope ever green; at the shore the soft susurrus of the 
fronds of the swaying palms, the distant forest canopies laced with 


8 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


white ribbons of cascades that look forever cool and reposeful. In the 
slow, scented drift of the night air comes the mingled perfume of 
heavy odors, the rhythmic clapping of hands as the sensuous charm 
of the dance intermixes in posturings and swayings, the cheer of 
happy laughter, the swell of the music of song. Small wonder that 
tide and beach attract; another sailor has “‘just jumped his ship’; 
one more beachcomber settles down to the comfort of savage life 
where duty is a thing unkown. 

Such and of such sort have been the men who were the active 
agency in creating the Beach-la-mar. Being men they must talk, 
even among alien folk. It is not that they had anything much worth 
the saying; of men much better placed that may not always be 
postulated. This record of the language which they have created 
will show the paucity of their essential ideas and their scanty import- 
ance. If we are to seek to comprehend the jargon the time will not 
have been wasted in the presentation of these brief sketches of the 
manner of men out of whose needs its creation arose and the condi- 
tions under which that need became manifest. 

It will be apparent that so far we have accounted for no more than 
sporadic foci of evolution of some mongrel dialects, each narrowly 
restricted in essential conditions to one or at most to two white men, 
and the few communities of islanders with which they were in inti- 
mate contact. Being sedentary in their employment, the white men, 
as the principal actuating cause, were not in a position to become 
agents in disseminating their particular mongrel speech beyond the 
narrow limits of their influence, and, in the habitual hostility of the 
savage communities, this influence could never extend beyond the 
island upon which they were domiciled and seldom (save only in the 
case of the very smallest) attained to the whole of that island. 

But the island world of the Pacific was yet anew to be exploited. 
The sandalwood had become extinct, the béche-de-mer had been 
fished out. There remained a third natural product which had value 
in lands beyond, the manhood of the islands. The labor trade arose, 
slave hunting perfumed by euphemisms. Blackbirding was the term 
cynically affected by its practitioners; at the behest of its benefi- 
ciaries, recruiting of Polynesian labor was the designation in acts of 
Colonial parliaments and Queen’s orders in council which named an 
infamy into respectability on paper and ordered its methods. It was 
the blackbirding which assumed the mongrel tongues wherever found, 
bore them to the remotest parts of the Pacific, established them in the 
Queensland plantations on the Australian coast, and fused them all 
into a common speech and thereby created the Beach-la-mar. 

Melanesia is a tangle of severally incomprehensible languages. In 
my studies of the philology of that major division of the Pacific I have 
made use of more than a hundred distinct tongues, yet there are 


PARENTAGE OF THE JARGON. 9 


large areas for which no data are as yet accessible. I should not be 
surprised if future research should disclose 250 languages in that 
island area. Day may utter speech unto day, but not island to 
island in Melanesia. Even so tiny an islet as Three Hills—it is but 
six miles long—has two distinet and severally incomprehensible lan- 
guages; one finds its affiliations with the remote Polynesian family, 
the other avoids all coordination with any known speech. There was 
no common tongue for the islands which lie between New Caledonia 
and New Guinea, interpreters there were none. The Melanesian 
Mission has been forced to set aside the language of Mota in the New 
Hebrides, to train its indigenous deacons and priests in that language 
in order that when well instructed in the faith and theology they may 
serve as messengers in their home villages. Yet the law, the weapon 
forged by those sage parliaments and orders in council for the pur- 
pose of varnishing the semblance of humanity upon slave hunting, 
prescribed that the slaver must explain to the intended slave the full 
meaning of his engagement and that the slave’s answers must satisfy 
the Government labor agent that he comprehended what he was 
about to do when he gave up his home and idleness to go to an 
unknown country to toil in the canebrakes. The consideration for 
thus going into exile was some ridiculously disproportionate matter 
of trumpery—a hatchet of soft iron, a handful of beads—and it 
was colorably into hand paid, but as a matter of custom it always 
went into the wrong hands, it was given to those who remained 
ashore. No act of any parliament, no regulation emanating from 
the High Commissioner of the Western Pacific could avail to gloss 
over such transactions to the savage; he is far too elemental to 
consider fact less fact when treacledin words. A theoretical captain 
of a registered recruiting vessel, and there was never such an one 
in the labor trade, may have been courteous enough and sufficiently 
law-regardful to inquire of the expected slave if it were his pleasure 
to enter into an engagement to till the cane in a far land. The 
slave’s chief who wished to sell him asked bluntly “You wantum 
buy boy?” 

It was the labor trade which made Beach-la-mar a jargon and 
extended its currency. It gathered material from every source, it 
fused them all and created a language which yet remains the only 
means of intercommunication in the Western Pacific. 

In this summary of the causes of the Beach-la-mar I have hitherto 
omitted dates, and that of design. While events in divers parts 
of the Pacific were moving along these lines the motion was not 
synchronous in all parts alike. Some of the islanders had a worse 
reputation for inhospitality manifested in general devilishness than 
others, just as soot may be smudged on charcoal. Adventurous 
as the first voyagers in Melanesia were, there was instinct within 


10 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


them a certain regard for the integrity of their skins, and their 
characteristics of orthodoxy led them to look with equal disfavor 
upon the oven for their mortal parts and flames for whatever residue 
they considered themselves to possess. Thus it came about that 
their activities were unequally advanced. In general we may assign 
the sandalwood trade to the thirties of the last century, the trepang 
fishing to the forties and fifties, the labor trade to the middle sixties 
and thence onward in ever increasing vigor for about a score of years. 


CHAPTER II. 
THE ART OF BREAKING ENGLISH. 


Having shown the means by which the Beach-la-mar came into 
being and was established over a wide extent, we have next to con- 
sider the manner in which the two parties to the transaction arrived 
at an agreement in making the changes, each in his own speech and 
each in the speech of the other, whereby the resultant mongrel of 
language might respond to the calls of the need of each owner. 

Here we are to find two personal equations. We shall have to bear 
in mind that each party to the jargon must of necessity make sacri- 
fices of his own speech down to what he may consider the irreducible 
and ultimate. We shall equally have to bear in mind that there is a 
great difference in the attitude of the civilized man and that of the 
savage, and that, with his assumption of the right to rule the bar- 
barian through white franchise and with his advantage in the pos- 
session of the tawdry wares which to the islander seemsuch treasures, 
the white man must be the directive force in this creation of a speech 
which shall become common. 

Of peculiar incidence upon the speaker of English, we must not 
neglect to recognize one supreme axiom of international philology: 
the proper way to make a foreigner understand what you would say 
is to use broken English. He speaks it himself, therefore give him 
what he uses. 

“Then we give them the shoot gun,’ says Xury, laughing, ‘make 
them run wey’; such English he spoke by conversing among us 
slaves.’’ This we owe to Robinson Crusoe. 

In Bleeding Heart Yard we shall find the principle developed in 
richer detail; and the extracts, while long, will prove valuable. 
Each in his own way, Dickens and Defoe were observers particularly 
alert in the walk of the common life. 


It was up-hill work for a foreigner, lame or sound, to make his way with 
the Bleeding Hearts. In the first place, they were vaguely persuaded that 
every foreigner had a knife about him; in the second, they held it to be a 
sound constitutional national axiom that he ought to go home to his own 
country. They never thought of inquiring how many of their own country- 
men would be returned upon their hands from divers parts of the world if 
the principle were generally recognized; they considered it practically and 
peculiarly British. In the third place, they had a notion that it was a sort 
of divine visitation upon a foreigner that he was not an Englishman, and 
that all kinds of calamities happened te his country because it did things 
that England did not, and did not do things that England did. * * 

1] 


12 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


Against these obstacles the lame foreigner with the stick had to make 
head as well as he could. * * * However, the Bleeding Hearts were 
kind hearts; and when they saw the little fellow cheerily limping about 
with a good-humored face, doing no harm, drawing no knives, committing 
no outrageous immoralities, living chiefly on farinaceous and milk diet, and 
playing with Mrs. Plornish’s children of an evening, they began to think 
that although he could never hope to be an Englishman, still it would be 
hard to visit that affliction on his head. They began to accommodate 
themselves to his level, calling him Mr. Baptist but treating him like a 
baby, and laughing immoderately at his lively gestures and his childish 
English—more because he didn’t mind it, and laughed too. They spoke 
to him in very loud voices as if he were stone deaf. They constructed 
sentences, by way of teaching him the language in its purity, such as were 
addressed by the savages to Captain Cook, or by Friday to Robinson 
Crusoe. Mrs. Plornish was particularly ingenious in this art; and attained 
so much celebrity for saying “‘Me ope you leg well soon,”’ that it was con- 
sidered in the yard but a very short remove indeed from speaking Italian. 
Even Mrs. Plornish herself began to think that she had a natural call 
toward that language. As he became more popular household objects were 
brought into requisition for his instruction in a copious vocabulary; and 
whenever he appeared in the yard ladies would fly out at their doors crying 
“Mr. Baptist—tea-pot!’’, Mr. Baptist—dust-pan!’’, ““Mr. Baptist—flour- 
dredger!’’, ““Mr. Baptist—coffee-biggin!’”’ At the same time exhibiting 
those articles, and penetrating him with a sense of the appalling difficulties 
of the Anglo-Saxon tongue. * * * 

“So that some of us thinks he’s peeping out toward where his own country 
is, and some of us thinks he’s looking for somebody he don’t want to see, 
and some of us don’t know what to think.” 

Mr. Baptist seemed to have a general understanding of what she said: 
or perhaps his quickness caught and applied her slight action of peeping. In 
any case, he closed his eyes and tossed his head with the air of a man who 
had his sufficient reasons for what he did, and said in his own tongue it 
didn’t matter. Altro! 

“What's altro?” said Pancks. 

“Hem! It’s a sort of general kind of expression, sir,’’ said Mrs. Plornish. 

“Ts it?” said Pancks. ‘‘Why then altro to you, old chap. Good after- 
noon. Altro!’’ 

Mr. Baptist in his vivacious way repeating the word several times, Mr. 
Pancks in his duller way gave it him back once. From that time it became 
a frequent custom with Pancks the gypsy, as he went home jaded at night, 
to pass round by Bleeding Heart Yard, go quietly up the stairs, look in at 
Mr. Baptist’s door, and, finding him in his room, to say ‘‘Halloo, old 
chap! Altro!’’ To which Mr. Baptist would reply with innumerable bright 
nods and smiles, ‘‘ Altro, signor, altro, altro, altro!’’ After this highly con- 
densed conversation Mr. Pancks would go his way with an appearance of 
being lightened and refreshed. 


Here we have the fractured English, the comminution so benefi- 
cial to foreigners. There can be no doubt about the value; we induct 
our infants into their heritage in the classic dignity of the speech of 
Shakespeare and Milton by drooling predigested fragments into their 
dawning intelligences; and then, with jewelish consistency, in after 
life we demand of them that they parse 


THE ART OF BREAKING ENGLISH. 13 


Here we find, too, the satisfied, the condescending adoption of the 
alien vocable. We feel the generous glow of reflecting that, after all, 
it does us no lasting harm and makes the foreigner feel good, poor 
devil. See how we enjoy his efforts to acquire the only real speech, 
our own; he’s only a poor barbarian, but so droll. 


Katharine. Je me’n fais la répétition de tous les mots que vous m’avez 
appris dés a présent. 

Alice. Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense. 

K. Excusez moy, Alice; escoutez: de hand, de fingres, de nails, de arma, 
de bilbow. 

A. De elbow, madame. 

K. OSeigneur Dieu! je m’en oublie; de elbow. Comment appelez vous 
le col? 
De nick, madame. 
De nick. Et le menton? 
De chin. 
De sin. Le col, de nick; le menton, de sin. 
Ouy. Sauf vostre honneur, en vérité vous prononcez les mots aussi 
droict que mis natifs d’Angleterre. 


Sy 


And Shakespeare’s audience rocked with glee. 

Far from the wild life of the Pacific as these illustrations are, they 
yet exhibit two very active principles in the formation of the Beach- 
la-mar; we shall find them running all through the vocabulary of 
the jargon. 

I have already commented upon the fact that the white man, who 
is without particular intention or principle of philology dominating 
the production of the mongrel speech for hisown greater convenience, 
is a man of little or no education. The categories of grammar are far 
above his experience; the few rules and the many exceptions which 
form the science of our speech have never been feruled into his 
intelligence—perhaps it was in avoidance of them that he ran away 
off to sea and became a part of a life of dingy adventure. Nothing 
could shock him in the using of a noun for a verb, or of a pronoun for 
an adverb, or of a stout expletive for the better establishing of the 
force of his remarks. With his own kind he does that sort of thing 
at all times; he could have no greater consideration for the savage, 
who by no chance could detect asolecism. If he betrays no respect 
for the parts of his speech, still less could he be expected to maintain 
the integrity of the forms of inflection and conjugation. 

In this latter item it were grossly unfair to stamp the ignorant 
sailor as in a class apart, a depth of ignorance found only in blue 
water and not known on soundings. It so happens that I am ina 
position where my assistance is sought by many who have doubts on 
grammatical questions which they would like to have resolved. I 
shudder at the intimate knowledge which unconsciously is revealed 
to me of the number of persons who believe ‘‘between you and I” 


14 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


to be what they are more than likely to denominate good grammar. 
Only lately my good offices were sought by a correspondent who 
asked a favorable decision on the phrase ‘‘ whom he may be’”’ as but- 
tressed by this parsing: “‘he is the subject of the sentence, may be the 
predicate, and whom is the object of the verb be.’’ This from a person 
of education, at least she had studied stenography and typewriting 
and held a job. 

I am not charging up these grammatical sins to the sailors by 
reason of their briny yet fresh air profession; I merely note for the 
purposes of this treatise that they are sinners in a fashion which has 
left its mark on the jargon. From the marks thus made we may find 
an interesting note of the variation which our language may undergo 
and remain a means of communication; we find the irreducible mini- 
mum which is felt to underlie all the refinements of vocabulary and 
syntax. The English element of the jargon is vulgar English because 
it is contributed through a vulgar channel; it is the English of the 
ignorant, who have neither knowledge of canons which we regard as 
essential to comprehensibility nor scruple about violating them. We 
shall find ourselves far from English undefiled. 

We are safe in crediting the beginning of Beach-la-mar to the fore- 
castle. In its further development under the stimulus of the labor 
trade we are to recognize the introduction of a new element. The 
sailors who made up the crews of these legalized slavers were recruited 
from the slums of the seaports of Australia, particularly the havens 
of Queensland from Moreton Bay to Cooktown. It would be wide 
of this inquiry to speculate into causes; the system (long in force) of 
penal transportation comes into mind at once as a possible explana- 
tion, but the fact remains that the common speech of the Common- 
wealth of Australia represents the most brutal maltreatment which 
has ever been inflicted upon the language that is the mother tongue 
of the great English nations. Under such influence the poor kanaka 
remained for his term of labor, a man to whom toil was absolutely 
unknown; and this term was never less than three years, and so 
much longer as he might pass unheard of the authorities who were 
supposed to see that he was promptly returned to his own island. 
In this labor their overseers communicated with the islanders through 
the jargon. Among themselves, in the multitude of languages which 
the chance of capture and of sale might fling together upon any one 
plantation, the jargon became the only means of intercommunication. 
It is not a difficult tongue to acquire, three years in the barracks of a 
plantation were the equivalent of a university course.* 


*Denn jeder Mensch im Schutzgebiet weiss, dass der Melanesier sich nach 4- bis 8- 
wochentlicher Dienstzeit leidlich im Pidgin-Englisch verstandigen kann. Jeder Polizei- 
Junge und jeder Arbeiter kann am Ende seiner Dienstzeit Pidgin-English sprechen und 
kann Reis kochen. Da er immer wieder Gelegenheit findet, diese seine Kenntnisse auf- 
zufrischen, so bewahrt er sie zumeist bis zum Ende seiner Tage. Diese beiden Punkte 
sind charakteristisch fiir den ausgedienten Melanesier.—Friederici, 99. 


THE ART OF BREAKING ENGLISH. 15 


Note has been made of the fact that the superior partner, in 
making his contribution to the capital stock of the jargon, has mani- 
fested the utmost readiness to degrade and to debase the currency 
of his English speech. We are to observe this in far greater detail in 
the subjoined vocabulary and in the consideration of the syntax of 
Beach-la-mar. Similarly we shall find it of interest to observe what 
is the attitude of the junior, and ostensibly inferior, partner toward 
the material which is communicated to him, and more particularly 
toward that which he contributes from his own store. 

I do not know a single language of the Pacific in which it is possible 
to be ungrammatical; there is certainly not one in which certain 
persons are understood to speak with due regard for syntax and 
certain others betray their lack of education by speaking incorrectly. 
That is a distinction that marks only the races of higher culture; the 
lower race is of even and complete education. 

This comment has reference properly only to matters of grammar. 
In purity and beauty of diction there may exist marked distinctions. 
I have listened with rich delight to the classic Samoan which Malietoa 
Laupepa, the last king of that realm, could employ with singular 
grace when sure of the comprehension of his auditors; yet to many 
Samoans his words would prove incomprehensible. Percy Smith, 
the president of the Polynesian Society, has collected the words of 
many of the karakia or mystic formulas of Maori might which can 
never now be more than words, for no man alive can communicate 
their inner sense. In my own collection of Samoan legend and 
poetry are many passages for which no explanation can be given; the 
ancient sages have taken the knowledge with them along the road 
of the soul to Pulotu whence is no return. 

The exactness and uniformity of the grammar of the island tongues 
call for such explanation as we may offer. I have said that it is quite 
impossible to be ungrammatical. The isolating languages have no 
such device as inflection to indicate grammatical relation. Accuracy 
in speech rests on accuracy in the positioning of the different words 
and precision in the employment of the demonstrative and para- 
deictic accessories which indicate, by the former the relations of 
person and time and place and slightly of manner, by the latter the 
concords and dependencies which exist between the attributive words. 
In employing these several classes of words one puts the vocables in 
the correct order, sense is made, comprehensibility results, and one is 
understood. But put word to word in the incorrect order, the result 
is nonsense, one is not understood at all. In this sense it is really 
impossible to be ungrammatical. 

Widely variant as they are in vocabulary, the languages of the 
Western Pacific, in which the jargon was brought into being, are all 
of the isolating type; their grammar, though to us it may seem most 


16 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


rudimentary, is of practical uniformity in principle, at least the 
importance of position is paramount. We shall study in vain the 
comical twists and awkward turns of the jargon if we fail to recognize 
that the junior partner has largely taken the vocabulary from the 
superior race and that the degradation of form and frequently of 
sense has been effected by the white man himself; the savage has no 
reason to suspect that the damaged goods are not the best in the 
market. Of any item in this vocabulary we may scarcely venture to 
credit the savage with a better comprehension than Mrs. Plornish 
was able to exhibit in the definition of altro; the use to which he 
puts them shows that he regards each as a sort of general kind of 
expression. But, accepting this stock in trade or working capital, 
the Melanesian applies the rigidity of his grammar, he employs the 
English word with the precision of his own speech. If we are to 
assign relative credits, the barbarian is shown in a far more respect- 
able light. | 

That the islander when adopting the jargon thinks that he is 
acquiring a foreign language is readily seen by inspection of the 
vocabulary; there are but thirteen vocables which derive from any 
speech of the Pacific. The Melanesians think the Beach-la-mar 
English, they so denominate it; of a man who is faulty in his use of 
the jargon the comment is frequently heard ‘‘he no speak proper 
English.”’ 


CHAPTER III. 
GRAMMAR OF ISOLATING SPEECH. 


It is manifest that the comminution of English speech before it 
becomes Beach-la-mar is chargeable to the English themselves. The 
study of the accompanying vocabulary will show that the islanders 
have scarcely ventured upon so slight a modification as mispronun- 
ciation of the material communicated to them, even conquering in 
their effort toward accuracy grave phonetic difficulties. In this con- 
nection it should be noted that a rough comprehension of such 
phonetic difficulties, or rather a dim recognition that phonetic diffi- 
culties existed, has to a certain extent conditioned the selection of 
material for the jargon. Any English word which on experiment 
proved impracticable to the islanders has undergone alteration to 
bring it within the scope of their familiar range of sounds or has been 
rejected for some facile synonym. 

A more minute examination of the vocabulary than is worth while 
in this paper will show that the concessions in speech material made 
on phonetic grounds are found most markedly in the case of words 
dependent for the accuracy of their pronunciation on a fine differen- 
tiation of the labials. ‘This falls into line with what I have been 
at pains elsewhere to establish, namely that in the languages of the 
Pacific the facility of the lips as speech organs is as yet most imper- 
fectly acquired.* 

Having accepted from the foreigner this accumulation of new 
vocables, just as ages ago in the sweep of the great Proto-Samoan 
migration of the Polynesian race the Melanesians acquired similarly 
a supply of loan material, these islanders have subjected the new 
fund of speech units to the regime of their own speech. 

For this reason we should engage on a summary survey of the 
principles of Melanesian speech. 

We are yet far too little acquainted with the many and diverse 
languages of Melanesia to feel warranted in using the term Melane- 
sian speech as in the least implying that there is now, or by analysis 
and comparison may be at all established, such a thing as one parent 
of the languages to be met with between the Papuans of New Guinea 
and the empty sea to the south of the Isle of Pines at the lower tip of 
New Caledonia. Infact Iam expectant that future research directed 
upon data more complete than are at present accessible will show the 
existence of at least two, perhaps three, distinct speech families within 
this large area of oceanic land. 


*The Polynesian Wanderings,’’ 332. 
17 


18 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


Be that as it may, it really is safe to say that all of the hundred 
known languages of Melanesia are on practically the same plane of 
development, even as those who speak them vary in but few particu- 
lars little above or little below the same cultural horizon. With this 
note we shall feel at liberty to employ for the purposes of this study 
the convenience of such a designation as Melanesian speech, a com- 
posite of our knowledge of many languages within that region used 
as a bench-mark for the examination of this jargon. 

We have discarded Bopp’s erroneous classification, erected on quite 
insufficient data, parroted by a long line of systematic philologists, 
the Malayo-Polynesian speech family. Briefly stated, he sought to 
set forth that from Madagascar to Easter Island there was a single 
family of languages and that it was agglutinative. Although first 
combated by Crawfurd in 1847, this theory has been a stumbling- 
block to hinder the progress of the study of linguistics in the Pacific 
tract, thus in a great measure succeeding in preventing the forging 
of the weapon which might destroy it. Now, however, we recognize 
the falsity of the classification, and Polynesian and Melanesian may 
go ahead in search of their appointed end. We know that these two 
groups of languages are not agglutinative. 

They are isolating. Formative elements have lately begun to 
attach themselves to primal root or stem forms, yet they are far 
from so much as the beginning of that alteration in sense or in form 
or in both which characterizes the quasi terminations or infixations 
of the agglutinative languages. Vocables are frequently monosyl- 
labic; more commonly they are in pairs of syllables; there is no 
objection to stately polysyllables. It is not difficult to separate 
these words into monosyllabic elements; the reduction is so suc- 
cessfully accomplished in such a great number of instances that when 
the reduction seems to fail we may properly ascribe such failure to 
the lack of data rather than to any fault of method or defect of 
principle. We go even beyond this reduction to monosyllables. 
There is excellent reason—in many cases it is clearly demonstrable— 
to believe that the seemingly ultimate monosyllable is susceptible of 
reduction to the primal seed of the language in a vowel, to which may 
be prefixed or may be suffixed, or both, certain modulant consonants 
having definite coefficient value; that is to say, the consonantal 
modulants tend to qualify, to define, to refract, and to focus some 
particular sense in which the primordial seed vowel may be applied 
for the communication of ideas.* 

In a certain distinctive word-form the Melanesian languages 
exhibit wide variety. In the softly flowing languages of Polynesia 
the rule is absolute that all syllables must be open; every word must 
therefore end in a vowel; two consonants may never under any cir- 








*American Journal of Philology, XXVII, 369. 


GRAMMAR OF ISOLATING SPEECH. 19 


. cumstances be brought together, and open-mouthed words all vocalic 
and without a single stouter phonetic element are frequent. But in 
Melanesia there is no such uniformity. Certain of the languages 
prefer the vowel ending; in certain neighbor languages this is highly 
objectionable; terminal abrasion is applied upon the weak ending and 
the vowel is rubbed off for the stronger ending. We find instances in 
great plenty of this feature carried to the second degree; a word in 
passing from a language of open habit to one of the closed habit loses 
its final vowel, but in yet more distant passage through this medium 
to another language of open habit it undergoes still another loss: the 
then final consonant is thrown aside to expose a vowel which in the 
beginning was inner. 

In the matter of the concurrence of consonants there is similar 
disparity. In the Melanesian languages of open habit no two con- 
sonants may come together. There is next a considerable group of 
languages in which certain double consonants not only are permitted, 
but are rigorously required. This is particularly the case with the 
sonant mutes. In this group, somewhat widely dotted over the geo- 
graphical area, the sonant mutes are unspeakable without the sup- 
port of the preface of the nasal, each of its proper series, the palatal 
mute requiring the palatal nasal, the lingual mute the lingual nasal, 
the labial mute the labial nasal. The following illustrate the principle: 
In the mutation from surd palatal mute to spirant the k of the Poly- 
nesian kamu may not in Viti become g simply, but requires the 
preface of the palatal nasal ng, thus becoming uggamu, a double 
consonant which is fairly represented by the ng of our English word 
finger. In like manner ¢ must become nd, and the Samoan fut is 
vundi in Vaturanga, Nggela, and Bugotu. So p must at its simplest 
mutation become mb; the Polynesian pongis appears as mbongt 
in Nggao, Belaga, Nggela, Vaturanga, Bugotu, Omba, and Sesake. 
Because, as already remarked, the labials are but just acquired and 
imperfectly tamed the word may become a wretchedly uncouth 
mouthing, as shown by these other pongis forms—kpwon in Arag, 
Vuras, and Lakon; mpwonin Mota; kwon in Lo; kmbwon in Maewo, 
Gog, Motlav, and Norbarbar; nggmbwon in Volow. This intermedi- 
ate class admits concurrent consonants only in this specific instance, 
not so much double consonants as grace notes. A more considerable 
group of Melanesian languages has no objection to concurrent con- 
sonants, no matter what they may be. 

Such matters of form are far from being the really distinctive 
character of isolating languages. A much more vital quality is the 
evaluation of words as agencies of speech. Not for long ages of 
evolution are we to approach the seemingly simple system of parts 
of speech with which we are familiar until grammatical formalism 
clouds the clarity of our analytic language. The great difficulty 


20 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


which has arisen to prevent the comprehension of isolating language 
has been the fetish regard in which students have held eight or nine 
parts of their own speech as in some sort deodand. 

This is not the place, nor in this treatise is there room, for a com- 
plete discussion of the syntactical problems of isolating speech. But 
our study of the jargon calls for at least a summary statement of the 
rules of Melanesian grammar in accordance with which it is used. 

All vocables fall into one of three classes. This is a present and 
operative condition; it is not impossible, in many cases it is easy, to 
study out the method of differentiation by which these classes have 
grown from a protoplasm of sounds modulated by a consciously 
exerted intelligence. The three parts of Melanesian speech, the 
designation familiar to our systems of grammar being conveniently 
employed in an indicative sense and not as definition, are the attrib- 
utive, the demonstrative, and the paradeictic. 

The list of the vocables which fall within the third class is brief. 
These words are such as indicate, but do not necessarily define, 
relation as existing between two objects of cognition. ‘The intellec- 
tual plane of the men whose thought is communicated by these 
languages is yet far too low to give to these relation words positive 
and distinctive value; their effective end in speech is no more than 
to indicate that at a certain point there is a relation of some sort. 
In this category we may discover the segmentation of the germ 
which seems to promise growth into something corresponding to the 
conjunctions and prepositions of the more highly organized systems 
of speech. 

There are very few of these paradeictic words—quite enough to 
serve the islander’s needs in distinguishing the several sorts of rela- 
tion which seem to him valuable to communicate. Hence it comes 
about that each of these few words must do recruit duty for a large 
number of the relations to comprehension of which our keener intel- 
ligence and recognition of a more deeply interlaced plexus of associ- 
ation have brought us. We note that these words are among the 
most elemental in the several languages; they are the simple vowels, 
or at most they have undergone the most primary modulation by the 
prefixing of a coefficient consonant. To exhibit both the nature and 
employment of the paradeictic we may profitably consider a colloca- 
tion of vocables drawn from one of the isolating languages of the 
Pacific, and I employ the Samoan of Nuclear Polynesia for the 
reason that it has been so much more extensively studied than any 
Melanesian speech that more detailed examination of the point is 
comparatively easy. 

In the composite sense group fala 1 manu we see two attributives 
between which is interjected the paradeictic i. If we were to render 
this phrase into Latin we should have istoria animalium; we should 


GRAMMAR OF ISOLATING SPEECH. 21 


find the dependence of the succeeding attributive word upon the 
former paradigmatically incorporated within itself; we should parse 
animalium as in the genitive objective. Therein we confess (at least 
an examination of the logical process underlying the genitive use as 
object shows that without particular note of the fact we do acknowl- 
edge) that historia, though noun in its assignment to the classic parts 
of speech, yet retains so much of its verb power as to govern an 
object. In any English rendering we must employ a preposition; we 
can make the Samoan sense appear only through some such expres- 
sion as “‘story of animals” or “‘story about animals.’’ When we 
examine the Samoan dictionary—and we find the same thing in all 
Polynesia and in all Melanesia—it is observed that paradeictic 2 
is variously rendered as 72n, at, to, with, about, of, for, by, or eludes 
specific rendition entirely. This heaping up of significations should 
show on the first inspection that paradeictic 7 is not any one of these 
English prepositions, it is not all of them; it is still so elemental a 
part of primordial speech that it is far from becoming preposition at 
all. ‘The utmost that the Samoan conveys to his alert hearer, the 
utmost that he regards it essential to convey for purposes of thought 
communication, is the following, and here I must anticipate the 
explanation of the attributive which will be reached in due and 
orderly course. He says: “‘there-is-a-telling—there-is-a-relation— 
living-things.”’ Thus paradeictic 7 is not here a preposition; it is 
but a warning sign that in the former attributive is a verbal value 
and that it has transitive force upon the succeeding attributive. It 
is, therefore, but a sign suggesting a certain group of relations. 

Before we pass along and leave this particular paradeictic we 
may well note another of its uses, for it is critical in our classification 
of these languages as isolating and not agglutinative. To warrant 
a language entry into the agglutinative class it is not sufficient to put 
two elements into compaction. Clearing away the iron rule of the 
printer, such compaction is a matter of pronunciation. We acknowl- 
edge no such virtue in the nut-quad of the printer’s case as that 
by its presence or by its absence it shall make a word compound on 
the one hand or on the other composite. So, as between isolating 
languages freely compacting and agglutinative languages freely com- 
posite, there must be a difference underlying the distinction. This is 
it. In agglutination we encounter a modification and more or less 
of atrophy of the subordinate members of the composite. 

In the foregoing exhibition phrase from the Samoan we have 
already seen tala the attributive word and 7 the paradeictic. In both 
of the existing vocabularies of this language, and for motive of con- 
venience I shall retain it in my dictionary, we encounter as a second- 
ary attributive talaz, erroneously designated verb but fairly employed 
in no senses other than such as are comparable with our under- 


22 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


standing of averb. Of coursethe paradeictic 7 is irreducible; atrophy 
of form is impossible. If we examine the sense we shall find no 
variation of meaning; tala means as before, “‘there-is-a-telling”’; 2 as 
before means ‘‘there-is-a-relation”’; therefore talai means ‘‘to tell to,”’ 
“to declare.’ It is accordingly a compacted word and not a com- 
posite, it is a mark of isolating and not of agglutinative speech. 

If it were not that for lexicographic ends it will be found convenient 
to arrange certain verbal uses of ta/a under talaz, I should treat the 
compacted form as no more than a record of fluent pronunciation. 
In our English we have words now in good usage, but wholly sub- 
versive of etymology, as a result of such fluent utterance as must 
always characterize the speech of any one in his native tongue. I 
note the familiar instances of adder and apron where a space dis- 
lodged westward has obliterated from our language the true words 
nadder and napron, and newt where an eastward dislodgement of the 
space leaves us puzzled over the simultaneous existence of newt and 
evet or eft as names for the same animal. 

The second of the parts of isolating speech is the demonstrative— 
a class far larger and far more detailed and specific than the para- 
deictic, yet still numerically small. Into this class fall those words 
which give vocal expression to cognition data which in daylight may 
be expressed almost, if not quite, as well by the pointing finger, which 
commonly are expressed doubly by word of mouth and digito mon- 
strari, a process now held inelegant, but which as recently as the 
brightest days of the Appian Way and the Via Sacra was welcomed 
as the best of good form. In this class we find what we know as pro- 
nouns, personal, demonstrative, the beginning of interrogatives, but 
no relatives have yet come into being. We find furthermore the basic 
adverbs of place and time, not yet discrete; we find a few of the 
adverbs of manner, the simplest ones. In general the demonstrative 
words in this group of isolating languages are the vocalization of the 
gesture language, the man’s provision against speechlessness soon as 
the evening shades prevail. 

Next we come to the attributive class, in which lies the great bulk 
of the vocabulary of each of these languages. In this part of isolating 
speech we include those vocables which in speech of higher develop- 
ment we have differentiated and have learned to designate nouns, 
verbs, adjectives, and most of the adverbs. 

Let us resume the consideration of tala. We have already seen the 
word in a usage which must, despite its violence, be designated a 
transitive noun, if we are to attempt to parse Samoan by means of 
our own grammatical apparatus. But that by no means exhausts 
the utilization of the word. Used absolutely, or with the definition 
of a weak demonstrative which we might denominate article if it 
were at all necessary to make a distinction where there is really no 


GRAMMAR OF ISOLATING SPEECH. 23 


difference, Je tala means “‘a story.’’ With other demonstratives we 
find the sense group ‘ou te tala meaning “‘I say.’”’ Regarded as word 
absolute, tala passes unchanged from one sense to the next. It sim- 
plifies the grammar to group all the significations of tala, of the 
thousands of other words which are similarly flexible in use, and to 
erect a part of speech which shall at once and for all its contents 
define the use, just as in our more discrete grammar a noun is the 
name of any person, place, or thing which can be known or men- 
tioned, and a verb is a word which signifies to be, to do, or to suffer. 
If I may be pardoned a personal note I do wonder whence these 
machine-made definitions come back so perfectly to mind at the 
moment when for the first time in a generation I need them or 
their like. 

We may, of course, say that tala is a root invariable in form, but 
which varies in sense according as it is used for a noun or a verb. 
This is a very indolent way of disposing of the problem; we shall 
find no difficulty in adducing many instances from English in which 
noun and verb are the same in form, which interesting fact has 
absolutely no whit to do with the matter. There is far more in this 
attributive part of isolating speech than is susceptible of explanation 
by the statement that any vocable may serve as noun, verb, adjec- 
tive, or adverb according to the whim of the speaker. We shall lose 
the whole significance of isolating speech if we avoid its problems 
by such evasion, and it is vitally significant when we see it pointing 
the way to the comprehension of how man created for his own needs 
the art of speech. 

In our system of formal grammar the only thing which at all 
approximates this idea is the verbal noun. The savage of our study, 
like many another primitive thinker, has no conception of being in 
the absolute; his speech has no true verb “‘to be.”’ Similarly he can 
not conceive a quality in the absolute; his recognition of that quality 
is always substantive; quality and the notorious existence of that 
quality must share his statement. His is not the intelligence to say 
‘“‘red’’ as we may do and hold an abstract idea of redness; whatever 
word he may use to express ‘“‘red’’ must equally express the concep- 
tion of existence; the utmost he can say is ‘‘is-red,’’ and when the 
word is spoken the untrained intelligence and, in great likelihood, 
the roving eye will seek out some object in nature concerning which 
specifically to posit the existing quality, whether it be the blossom 
of hibiscus tucked over his neighbor’s ear or the long tail-feathers of 
the tropic bird aloft visible to his keen sight, but to us, when dis- 
cerned, no more than a locomotive dot in the blue heavens. 

Recur to my first introduction of the sample phrase, tala 1 manu: 
it will be observed that for tala I offered a sense as dashed as if it 
were in the Morse code: ‘‘there-is-a-telling.’”’ Such periphrasis 


24 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


incorporates the naming element of the stem and the substantive 
force. It is about as near aswe can come to the isolating signification 
when we attempt to render it in our own analytic speech, we may 
come a little closer in the rendering ‘‘ being-a-telling.”’ 

Thus are we come to the point where I may venture upon a defini- 
tion of the attributive as a part of isolating speech. It is the sub- 
stantive pronouncement of the existence of a state, of a quality, or of 
an action. Under that definition we need not concern ourselves in 
the least with the noun or the verb, the adjective or adverb, which 
are yet long uncertain epochs of evolution in the future. 

With this fixed in the comprehension it is not difficult to see how 
tala may seem to us now noun and now verb, yet to the Samoan 
intelligence may be a single speech unit undifferentiated. I have 
introduced /e tala as exhibiting the usage in which tala holds the 
position of a noun such as we understand. To the Samoan this word 
group means “‘the—being-a-telling,’’ and that will at once be seen 
to be the basic signification of what we mean under our noun “‘story.”’ 
Again I have introduced this other word group as illustrating the 
verb function of the stem, ‘ou te tala. In the Samoan sense this is 
“‘of-me—the—being-a-telling,”’ that is ‘‘mine-the-telling,’’ and that 
finally is “I tell.’”’ Accordingly we have established, at least suffi- 
ciently for the purposes of this treatise, the essential nature of the 
attributive words in the isolating speech of Melanesia. 

This chapter may seem a pause in the narrative of the evolution 
of the Beach-la-mar. Yet it is most essential; the vocabulary is 
alien; when put to use by the islanders it is under the rule of the 
grammar of isolating speech; only with this preliminary sketch of 
that grammar can we trace out the turns of the jargon. No matter 
from which of the parts of English speech a jargon vocable may be 
derived, there is no difference in its employment; in Beach-la-mar 
it may be attributive, demonstrative, or paradeictic—none other, 
since none other there is. Into whichever of these three parts of 
speech the adopted alien vocable falls it is under the Melanesian 
rules governing the traffic in such part of isolating speech. 


CHAPTER IV. 
SOURCES AND USE OF THE VOCABULARY. 


We shall in this chapter pass to a more detailed examination of 
the vocabulary as under the regimen of the grammar of isolating 
speech. In the course of such examination we shall see the source 
of the odd quips and turns of speech which give the Beach-la-mar the 
twang of low comedy. But we are not to dismiss it lightly because 
it happens to be risible; even at the uttermost isles of the sea we are 
not to allow our readiness to see the jest obscure the fact that in it 
many a true word is spoken. It is a vivid and vital speech, and 
within its not inconsiderable area a most valuable means of com- 
munication, in fact the only feasible means. 

In the vocabularies proper to the several Melanesian languages 
the paradeictic words are very few in number and correspondingly 
general in their employment. Such we shall find the case in the 
Beach-la-mar; there are listed but a baker’s dozen such vocables, 
and of these five are recorded only in the most modern phase of the 
jargon and are of doubtful authenticity. 

To correlate them the more readily with our own speech we shall 
examine these in two classes according as they serve the end of our 
conjunctions or our prepositions. 

In this vocabulary we find citations exhibiting the use of the con- 
junctions and, but, if, or. It will be seen that with one exception 
(if reported by Captain Wawn in 1893 as from the eighties), these are 
all supported only by the most modern recorders. Against this we 
set the fact that in the Melanesian languages, indeed throughout the 
speech of the Pacific, the specific need of conjunctives has been 
little felt, and of disjunctives still less. Even so elemental an idea as 
is conveyed by and is conceived of only in the relation of two or more 
concrete objects; the conjunction of clauses and of sentences is 
effected by putting one in succession to the other without the use of 
a word expressive of such relation. In the version of the Eden 
sermon which is here cited the presence of the conjunctions is dis- 
tinctly a blemish upon the composition; if every and were deleted 
the result would be far better Beach-la-mar. The conditional particle 
is to a certain extent in other case. It is scarcely necessary to Mela- 
nesian thought and is forced upon the jargon from European needs. 
Phonetically it involves a labial which is not everywhere possible 
to the islanders; I have record of a scant fifteen languages in which f 
is possible, 15 out of 150. If the consonant were to be abraded 

25 


26 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


because of labial difficulty the resultant vowel would be in confusion 
with the prepositional 7. For these, and probably as well for reasons 
which have been found to exist in similar conditions far remote from 
the Pacific, the contributing sailors have expressed the conditional 
by suppose, which may become s’ pose or ’pose. It has attained such 
wide currency in so many jargon tongues that these two citations of 
if in the room of suppose suggest rather the ignorant learning of the 
reporters. 

Among the paradeictics of prepositional employment by far the 
greatest use is made of along, belong, long. Evidently they derive 
from the same source; certainly long does derive equally from along 
and belong. It is possible that along and belong were independent 
contributions to the jargon vocabulary, but the three are now found 
so freely interchanging that this point, no matter of great importance, 
is impossible of settlement. The three cover, among others, every 
prepositional sense, so that little occasion arises for our other prepo- 
sitions. This is a little strange in the case of in and of. If these very 
common prepositions were subjected to the usual island abrasion 
of final consonants the result would be the vowels z and o; and almost 
from one end of the Pacific to the other 7 means 77 and o means of. 
Our records show us but a single instance of the use of to, and in that 
instance we may rest very sure that to is not regarded as paradeictic 
but as one of the three syllables of a command speech unit in which 
the syntax is as little comprehended as is the theology. 

The demonstratives in’ Beach-la-mar number eighteen; but the 
bulk of the burden is borne by three personal pronouns and one which 
we designate demonstrative, namely me, you, him, and that. Some 
few of the citations show inflectional forms of these pronouns, yet 
they rest on doubtful authority and are not demanded by the canons 
of the best jargon. It may seem to us somewhat more tidy to remark 
to a casual cannibal “I say,’’ but he will much better comprehend the 
locution me speak. With us there is something urgent, something 
insistent about that oblique case of the first person singular. Me 
seems a stouter word than J; given the least encouragement it pops 
into places where it finds that it must not trespass under penalty of 
the law grammatical. We must not say “‘he is better than me,”’ yet 
wedo. We must not say “itis me,’ yet we do; and when brought to 
book for our offense we envy the French who can happily be correct 
and ungrammatical with their c’est moi, or we look with pious longing 
at the Society of Friends in the very next pronoun where grammar is 
swallowed up in faith and thee religiously serves as the subject of a 
verb. But given a distant sea, where the laws of Lindley Murray 
have no currency and the writ grammatical does not run, it is inter- 
esting to see with what vigor me becomes subject and forgets its 
accusative origin in the joy of new life. 


SOURCES AND USE OF THE VOCABULARY. 27 


In the third person we find a wholesale sacrifice of gender, him is 
man, woman, and zt. In these citations I find but a single instance of 
she, none at all in my own knowledge of the jargon; and as this 
single instance is supplied by Miss Grimshaw we may disbelieve, but 
we must show our manners and yield politely place aux dames. 

In Beach-la-mar these pronouns lack pronominal vigor. They 
may stand alone, but in general they are found leaning for support 
upon the universal noun fellow. Fellow is man or woman. Our 
pronouns when they pass to island keeping seem too weak to be erect 
and need the prop. The same word sustains the numerals. In this 
usage we get a glimpse of the reason. The numeral is too abstract 
in itself; it needs a differentiating device to show that it is used in a 
concrete sense. Where fasi means ‘‘one’’ it is necessary to employ 
to‘atast when one man is counted. If this be the ignorance of the 
savage we are not much better; our drovers reckon cattle as so many 
head, our soldiers compute arms as so many stand. Therefore it 
behooves us when we scan the entries under fellow in this vocabulary 
to burnish our own pots before we remark upon the blackness of 
cannibal kettles. 

It will prove scarcely worth while to formulate the rules of the 
grammar of this speech. They will best be acquired from study of the 
examples presented in the vocabulary and in the Edensermon. Each 
word stands fixed, a unit of speech; it rises serene above the shifts 
of paradigms; case and number, mood and tense and voice leave it 
high and dry. Inthe adjective comparison is unknown; the islanders 
do not know how to think comparatively—at least they lack the 
form of words by which comparison may be indicated; ‘‘this big, 
that small’’ is the nearest they can come to the expression of the idea 
that one thing is greater than another. Because of this absence of 
comparative thought I incline to regard the frequent more betier as 
comparative only in the estimation of the white men; to the islander 
it must come only as an emphasis upon positive statement. 

In the verb we encounter a form-phase which may suggest inflec- 
tion. This is the final syllable which in our authorities appears as 
’'m, um or em, or even by a species of grammatical scrupulosity as 
him. I can not seein any case here presented, or in my wider famil- 
larity with the speech, any reason to regard this as in any sort a 
personal pronoun in the position of the former of a double object. 
In general there is the objection that the speech is yet far below such 
a nicety of grammar; in particular opposition we find the termina- 
tion applied to attributives with verbal powers in cases where the 
object can be reached only by the bridge of an interjected along. 
Euphony is equally out of question as an explanation. There is not 
the slightest suggestion of euphony in the jargon at large. Further- 
more (and this is of great importance as bearing on such a suggestion 


28 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


of explanation) this terminal of neutral vowel and final consonant is 
used not only on the islands to whose speech closed syllables are 
grateful, but quite as generally where the genius of the indigenous 
language is in favor of the open syllable. In the latter case (an even 
half of the island tongues which underlie and condition the use of the 
Beach-la-mar) the employment of this termination entails a con- 
scious effort and some phonetic difficulty. 

So far as concerns the form, and this has particular reference to the 
final nasal, I think that we may credit the termination to the white 
partners in the jargon. But it seems to me that the inspiration came 
from the islanders. They must have added some sort of termination 
to the vocables offered them; the white men must have been led by 
the resemblance in vowel quality and have jumped to the conclusion 
that this was the um with which they were familiar in recollection of 
the small language of early childhood. 

This explanation is borne out by familiar study of the many 
island languages. In almost all of them, Melanesian and Polynesian 
alike, there is a termination which may be applied distinctively to 
vocables when used in a sense similar to that which we know under 
the designation of verbs. This is the neutral vowel, represented by 
a when the languages are reduced to writing. It may be applied 
directly to the stem or it may require the assistance of the para- 
deictic 7. In the somewhat extended essays upon the syntax of the 
Polynesian languages, in the slender treatises to which we owe our 
knowledge of the varied Melanesian speech, the verb forms thus am- 
plified are considered inflected and are defined as the passive voice 
form. While working on this basis I was led to discover and to formu- 
late certain rules—which by these authorities are nowhere set forth in 
terms but which are readily deducible from more general statements. 

A passive verb may govern a direct object. 

A passive verb may govern an indirect object. 

A passive verb may govern the agent in the nominative. 
A passive verb may agree in number with its object. 

A passive verb may be active, deponent or middle. 

Such an outrage to my grammatical instincts was far too much. 
If I had come to the heart of the South Sea, and the joy of parsing, 
bright guiding star of speech, were thus rudely snatched from me, it 
was surely time to do something. 

As aresult, the study and analysis of this built-up form, which is 
really found to be governed by quite simple rules, has enabled me 
to identify in the verb-employment of the island vocables of the 
attributive class a special form to which I have given the name 
objective aspect. It is this objective aspect of their own grammar 
which the islanders have sought to apply to the jargon attributives 
when employed in verb sense. They have affixed the neutral vowel 


SOURCES AND USE OF THE VOCABULARY. 29 


from their own system; the ignorant white men have been misled by 
sound resemblance and have made the termination um, and the 
refining force of such recorders as seek to make the jargon good 
English have made it him, which is at least paradigmatically possible 
even though the syntax may suffer. At base the termination which 
makes the objective aspect is no more than a vocal sign of warning 
that an object of the verb is to follow or that it is to be understood 
that the action of the verb is extended upon some object not deemed 
needful to state. 

The general source of the Beach-la-mar vocables has already been 
considered. Before leaving this interesting jargon study we may 
note two or three particulars of origin. 

Very properly, in close accordance with our knowledge of the 
history of the growth of this trade-speech, the marine element is 
large. There can be no hesitation in ascribing to forecastle English 
such exotics as pickaninny, calaboose,and savvy—longshore sweepings 
from the Spanish Main. The squareface, sole landward hope of the 
sailor, is scarcely known ashore. ‘The sailor dialect has kept alive 
and has given to these remote savages the special sense of sing out 
and look out, of capsize along with copper, of slew, of look alive, of 
adrift and fashion. 

Of certain elements of low, cant, vulgar English the sailors may 
have been the carriers. But another source is to be included. It was 
not all of blackbirding to get the kanaka aboard the schooner of the 
labor trade; his term of hard labor was to be served in the Queens- 
land plantations. Here he had the opportunity to enrich his vocabu- 
lary with words which characterize Austral English. It is to this 
opportunity, which one might scarcely venture upon saying the 
moiling exile enjoyed, that we must ascribe in the greater measure 
the inclusion of such terms as tumble down and blackfellow, of flash 
and trash, of hook tt and clear out, of hump and wire in, of gammon 
and bloody. 

Child men and until the day of unimportant death thinking only 
as children, this speech of theirs, their English of our English, even 
when it moves us to laughter moves us to see the pathos aswell.* We 
must pity when we see the even lack of emotion which runs a blue 


*Friederici (page 100) sheds a pleasant light upon the Beach-la-mar which I am sur- 
prised to find that I had neglected. It is with pleasure, therefore, that I subjoin his 
brief sketch of the manner in which this immature language is spoken: ‘‘Ich nannte es 
vorhin einen hasslichen Jargon, eine Bezeichnung, die es ohne Zweifel reichlich verdient. 
Aber es hat auch seine freundlichen, seine verséhnenden Seiten, die selbst derempfindet, 
der die Sprache {nur wenig beherrscht, die aber in der Hauptsache nur dann zutage 
treten, wenn sie in dem ihr zustandigen Milieu, im Kreise von Kanakern gesprochen 
werden, wenn sie aus deren Munde kommen. Auf dem Papier lasst sich nur schwer 
die Wirkung mancher komischer Redewendungen, erstaunlicher Umschreibungen, 
plotzlicher Ausrufe wiedergeben. Es gehért dazu das Geberdenspiel des Melanesiers 
mit Mundwinkel, Nase, Augen und Stirn, seine unter Umstanden unsagbar verachtliche 
Miene, sein kindliches Lachen, seine laute Aufgeregtheit.”’ 


30 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


thread through their dull lives. If we think of them as men over 
whom the blaze of rage might flame, let us look at cross and growl to 
see how shallow this great emotion really is. Or take in the other 
direction the outpouring of self which alone can make us higher than 
angels, angels who but continually do cry while we may be lifted up 
to higher heavens where word and voice itself must fail our highest 
joy. The most ridiculous word in the jargon is the name of love. 
Lest the readier smile at the absurdity obscure the pity of it all, I 
would revive a note which I made in a former paper (American 
Journal of Philology, xx1x, 36): 


In Duffield’s New Ireland vocabulary (Proceedings of the Royal Society 
of Queensland, 1, 115) pus-puss is defined as ‘‘a cat, a white shell, a delicate 
word.’”’ In Stephan and Grabner’s ‘‘ Neu-Mecklenburg’’ (the same island) 
it is cited in the phrase “‘bimeby she puss-puss plenty’”’ as covering every 
outward exhibition of affection, static and kinetic. Such, too, is my recol- 
lection of the word from an earlier date in the same wild archipelago. ‘The 
student of ethics will find herein a striking disclosure of the jejunity of the 
intellectual or spiritual development of these savages when their first need 
of a term for the affections, possibly their first discovery of the existence of 
such emotions, is awakened by seeing a rude sailor petting a cat, aliens both. 


From German land hunger, from the Iron Chancellor’s dream of a 
colonial empire, the Beach-la-mar derives but the solitary specimen 
of rauss, the mutilated fragment of heraus. ‘This, it appears, is a 
matter most grave. It must be in some sort Majestatsbeleidigung. 
It isthe rift within Weltpolitik’s sweet-sounding lute. Mere English is 
a weak vehicle; we must have the sonorous cadences in which Baron 
von Hesse-Wartegg deplores the enormity and raises the Valkyr 
“hoyotoho!”’ which shall call all Germany to repair to the breach and 
ward off the danger ere it be toolate. The ten-year period which 
he set has already passed; Fatherland must have been far too ruhig; 
still the savage under the palms both rausses and israussed. But let 
the Baron in these pages sound yet once again his loud alarm: 


Die vorstehenden Beispiele sind nicht, says he, etwa besonders groteske, 
ich habe sie nur angefiihrt, wie sie mir gerade einfielen. Das ganze Pidgen- 
Englisch bewegt sich in ahnlichen Bezeichnungen, und wer sie auch nur 
einmal gehért hat, der wird den sehnlichen Wunsch hegen, dass dieser 
Unsinn baldigst durch verniinftiges Deutsch ersetzt werde. Baldigst sag 
ich deshalb, weil es jetzt noch Zeit ist, das Pidgen-Englisch auszurotten; 
vergeht aber noch ein Jahrzehnt, dann wird es sich bei der taglich wachs- 
enden Bevoélkerung so eingebiirgert haben, dass es unmdglich sein diirfte, 
und in weiteren fiinfzig Jahren besitzt das Deutsche Reich hier ein Schutz- 
gebiet, dessen Missionbevélkerung nur englisch spricht. Fiir die Welt- 
stellung und das Ansehen Deutschlands ware dies gewiss traurig und 
beschadmend. In allen Kolonien wird ausschliesslich oder doch vornehm- 
lich die Sprache des Mutterlandes gesprochen, selbst in den kleinen, rings 
von andersprachigen Landern umgebenen portugiesischen Kolonien. Und 
Deutschland, das grosse, weltgebietende, sollte das nicht auch erreichen 
k6nnen? Seitens des Gouvernements des Siidseegebietes kann vorlaufig nur 


SOURCES AND USE OF THE VOCABULARY. 31 


der Schulunterricht in diesem Sinne geregelt werden, denn den Pflanzern 
und Kaufleuten kann man begreiflicherweise keine Vorschriften machen, 
aber das deutsche Volk kann an den Patriotismus und den gesunden deut- 
schen Sinn unserer den Archipel bewohnenden Landsleute appellieren. Ich 
glaube wohl nicht fehlzugehen, wenn ich diesem gewiss ganz allgemeinen 
Wunsche hier in kraftigster Weise Ausdruck gebe. Mégen doch die Deut- 
schen in der Siidsee ihrer Muttersprache Anerkennung verschaffen und zu 
ihrer Verbreitung dadurch beitragen, dass sie sich im Verkehr mit den Einge- 
borenen nach Thunlichkeit der deutschen Sprache bedienen, anfanglich nur 
einzelne Bezeichnungen, dann allmahlich immer mehr, wenn auch nur eine 
Art von Pidgen-Deutsch zur Einfithrung bringen, bis der Nachwuchs aus 
den deutschen Eingeborenenschulen daist. Dann ist der schwierige Anfang 
iiberstanden, und ein grosses Gebiet der Siidsee wird als Verkehrssprache 
immer mehr die deutsche Sprache gebrauchen. Moégen sich in den heute 
noch kleinen deutschen Ansiedlungen hier die Beamten, Missionére, Kauf- 
leute und Handler die Hand zum deutschen Sprachenbunde reichen und 
einander geloben, nach Kraften und bei jeder Gelegenheit fiir gutes Deutsch 
einzutreten, mégen sie zeigen, dass sie auch in Bezug auf die Sprache die 
Herren auf deutschem Grund und Boden sind. In ihren Handen allein 
liegt dazu die Macht, und sie sollten sich mit allen Deutschen in der ganzen 
Welt zu dem Streben vereinigen: “‘Die deutsche Sprache in deutschen 
Kolonien.”’ 


Beach-la-mar is an amusing speech; in this brief treatise we have 
studied it with a gaiety of enjoyment which it would be a shame to 
have repressed. But now we are alarmed awake to its dangers.* 

As a relief to the threats of the secular arm, let us conclude with 
the Eden sermon. The version presented is taken from Mr. London’s 
account, at present the only available source of matter that is much 
older than his time in the Western Pacific, a brief sojourn at that. 
He introduces it in the following statement: 

Some years ago large numbers of Solomon Islanders were recruited to 
labor on the sugar plantations of Queensland. A missionary urged one of 
the laborers, whowas a convert, to get up and preach a sermon to a shipload 


of Solomon Islanders who had just arrived. He chose for his subject the 
Fall of Man. 


The story was familiar to me years ago in Australia and it was 
more than once in print in the newspapers. It was frequently related 
to me by missionaries in the islands and from more than one such 
source I learned that the story was popularly credited to the late 
Bishop Patteson. This version, particularly in the matter of the 
lavish use of the connectives, is scarcely a fair sample of the jargon 
in its capacity for extended narrative, but it will serve. 


I ey EE SR ae ie ie DIP Se 2a aN LE RARE ENE RRB ee MaLS Benen 

*Several interesting pages of Mr. Friederici’s valuable treatise are devoted,..to a 
consideration of this problem. He notes: ‘In der Kolonie Deutsch-Neuguinea wird in 
der Tat ein so weitgehender Gebrauch von diesem Jargon gemacht, er ist soabsolut unent- 
behrlich, dass nicht ganz zu Unrecht die Bemerkung gemacht worden ist, man brauche 
nur die englische Flagge iiber unserem schénen Schutzgebiet zu heissen, um den Eindruck 
zu haben, in einer britischen Kolonie zu sein.” Much as he deplores the use of Beach- 
la-mar as an English pidgin, much as he desires the introduction and eventual employ- 
ment of German in the German colonies, he recognizes the great difficulty which besets 
the introduction of even so primary a substitute as some sort of Pidgin-German. 


BD BEACH-LA-MAR. 


THE EDEN SERMON. 


Altogether you boy belong Solomon you no savvy white man. Me fella 
me savvee him. Me fella me savvee talk along white man. 

Before long time altogether no place he stop. God big fella marster 
belong white man, him fella he make’m altogether. God big fella marster 
belong white man, he make’m big fella garden. He good fella too much. 
Along garden plenty yam he stop, plenty coconut, plenty taro, plenty 
kumara, altogether good fella kaikai too much. 

Bimeby God big fella marster belong white man, he make’m one fella 
man and put’m along garden belong him. He call’m this fella man Adam. 
He name belong him. He put him this fella man Adam along garden, and 
he speak, ‘This fella garden he belong you.’’ And he look’m this fella Adam 
he walk about too much. Him fella Adam all the same sick; he no savvee 
kaikai; he walk about all the time. And God he no savvee. God big fella 
marster belong white man, God say: ‘“‘What name? Me no savvee what 
name this fella Adam he want.” 

Bimeby God he speak: ‘‘ Me fella me savvee, stir fella Adam him want’m 
mary.’ So he make Adam he go sleep, he take’m one fella bone belong 
him, and he make’m one fella mary along bone. He call’em this fella mary 
Eve. He give’m this fella Eve along Adam, and he speak along him fella 
Adam: ‘Close up altogether along this fella garden belong you two fella. 
One fella tree he tambo along you altogether. This fella tree belong apple.” 

So Adam Eve two fella stop along garden, and they fella have’m good 
time too much. Bimeby one day Eve she come along Adam, and she speak 
‘“‘More good you me two fella we eat’m this fella apple.’”’ Adam he speak 
no, and Eve she speak ‘‘what name you no like’m me?’ And Adam he 
speak ‘“‘me like’m you too much, but me fright along God.’”’ And Eve she 
speak: ‘“‘Gammon! What name? God he no savvee look along us two fella 
all’m time. God big fella marster he gammon along you.’’ But Adam he 
speak no. But Eve she talk, talk, talk allee time, allee same mary she talk 
along boy along Queensland, and make’m trouble along boy. And bimeby 
Adam he tired too much, and he speak “All right.’”’ So these two fella they 
go eat’m. When they finish eat’m, my word, they fright like hell and they 
go hide along scrub. 

And God he come walk about along garden, and he sing out ‘“‘ Adam!” 
Adam he no speak. He too much fright. My word. And God he sing out 
““Adam!’’ And Adam he speak, “‘ You call’m me?’’ God he speak, ‘‘Me 
call’m you too much.”’ Adam he speak “Me sleep strong fella too much.” 
And God he speak, ‘‘ You been eat’m this fella apple.”” Adam he speak 
‘No, me no been eat’m.’”’ God he speak: “‘What name you gammon along 
me. You been eat’m.’”’ And Adam he speak, ‘‘ Yes, me been eat’m.”’ 

And God big fella marster he cross along Adam Eve two fella too much, 
and he speak: “‘ You two fella finish along me altogether. You go catch’m 
bokkis belong you, and get to hell along scrub.” 

So Adam Eve these two fella go along scrub. And God he make’m one 
big fennis all around garden and he put’m one fella marster belong God 
along fennis. And he give this fella marster belong God one big fella musket 
and he speak “‘S’pose you look’m these two fella Adam Eve you shoot’m 
plenty too much.”’ 


BEACH-LA-MAR VOCABULARY. 


a he keep a bee there. G 243. 
all a Malekula man he say. G 207. 


about only in walk about, run about. 


adrift freely used in the sailor sense of to 
be unfastened. 
make adrift to untie, to loosen, to open. 
make’m door adrift: open. 
make’m peasoup adrift: open the tin 
of meat. 
ago long time ago. W 290. 
alive look alive: hurry up, make haste. 


all all functions as the sign of the plural 
(more numerous than the dual or 
trinal). 
I. preceding nouns and pronouns in our 
singular form. 
all he talk: they say. SG 121. 
all he cook him belong Mangin. 


99. 

all man: everybody. V 253. 

allman feelno good. V 252. 

all man he growlfor you. V 252. 

all a Malekula man he say. G 207. 

all the boy want to kill me. W 373. 

2. with nouns in our plural form. 

spirit belong all white men no good. 
P 266. 

bymbye all men laugh along that boy. 
Se 567. 

all adverbially used. 

suppose this fellow man he sabe he 
die all finish. SG 25. 

he kaikai all finish. S 304. 

he make’m one big fennis all around 
garden. L 364. 

he all bone. V 254. 

all see all right, all same, all time. 
alligator crocodile. R 105. 

This is not essentially jargon, the 
islanders could not make the 
blunder; it finds its base in the 
common failure in English to dis- 
tinguish the two lizards. The 
‘allegory on the banks of the Nile’”’ 
is a glass-house stone thrown reck- 
lessly at a good woman who but 
followed the error of those who 
should have known better than to 
dub Crocodilus niloticus an alli- 
gator, 

along 
I. possessive sign, more commonly belong. 
bone along me; heart along him; eye 
along him. V 254. 

me savvee talk along white man. 
L 362. 

rope along bush: liana. R 97. 


along 
2. objective sign. 
gammon along him. L 361, 363. 
kaikai along me. L 361, 362. 
what name you sing out along me? 
L 362. 
fight alonga him. W 290. 
3. at, objective. 
god he no savvee look along us two 
fella all’m time. L 363. 
bymbye all men laugh along that boy. 
Se 567. 
he cross along Adam Eve. 
4. sign of the indirect object, to. 
he give’m this fella Eve along Adam. 


L 363. 


363. 
make’m trouble along boy. L 363. 


5. sign of an ethical dative. 

you two fella finish along me alto- 

gether. L 364. 
6. locative; in, at, on, into. 

he stop along his island. W 349. 

stop along Vila. W 144. 

he find him along reef. Se 173. 

he put’m this fella Adam along garden. 
L 363. 

kaikai meat along butcher. R 108. 

stop all time along Mabuiag. V 252. 

so Adam Eve two fella stop along 
garden. L 363. 

close up altogether along this fella 
garden belong you two fella. 
L 363. (Observe the verb value: 
close up almost, altogether every- 
thing, along that is in.) 

talk along boy along Queensland. 
363: 

they go hide along scrub. L 363. 

he put’m one fella marster belong god 
along fennis. L 364. 


7. locative; aboard of. 
he come along Ceara. W 349. 
plenty boy along ship. W 386. 
8. along. 
go look’m eye belong you along deck. 
L 359. 
g. because of. 
me fright along god. L 363. 
10. for, duration of time. 
you been take me along three year. 
W 373- 
11. for, for the purpose of. 
spear good along fight. Se 560. 
you fellow strong along fight. Se 
560. 
12. out of. 
he make’m one fella mary along bone. 
L 363. 
33 


34 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


along 
13. to. 
he speak along this fella Adam. L 
363. 
one fella tree he tambo along you 
altogether. L 363. 


Eve she come along Adam. L 363. 

she talk along boy. L 363. 

get to hell along scrub. L 364. 

go along scrub. L 364. 

go alonga home. W 349. 

make rope fast along head. V 254. 
14. with. 

go along my man. V 252. 

15. all along same as: toresemble. The 
value of along does not appear in 
comparison with the simple all 
same. 


altogether adjectively in the sense of all, 
everything, without suggestion of 
grammatical number. 
close up altogether along this fella 
garden. L 363. 
we buy yam altogether: all you have. 


15. 
Adverbially. 
1. wholly, quite. 
one fella tree he tambo along you 
altogether. L 363. 
god big fella belong white man him 
fella hemake’maltogether. L 363. 
2. unanimously. 
what for you speak three year? Very 
good you speak three moon. Sup- 
pose you no speak three moon 
altogether, boy he stop Queensland 
three year. No good. W 373. 
3. altogether—no: not at all. 
altogether you boy belong Solomons 
you no savvee white man. L 362. 
before long time altogether no place 
he stop. L 363. 
and conjunction. 
pappa belong me he go finish yes’er- 
day, andI bring himhead. G223. 
more better you come out and you 
get water. Se 383. 
he make’m one fella man, and he 
put’m along garden. L 363. 


another of diversity in general. 
another fellow man. Se 444. 
another kind of: different. V 252. 
savvy another kind: to know better. 
he small now, bymbye he big he savy 
that another kind. Se 623. 


apple the determining characters appear to 
be rotundity and thin skin. 

and god he speak ‘‘you been eat’m 
this fella apple?’ L 363. 

Used also of the malay-apple, the 
rose-apple, the mammy-apple, and 
the onion, the latter being apple 
belong stink. 

around see also round. 
one big fennis all around garden. L 


364. 





as all along same as. V 252. 

This is the sole mention of as; it sug- 
gests the decadence of a jargon bent 
on parsing and consequent destruc- 
tion. 


oe 


bad the opposite of good and well. 
I. you very bad man, too much gammon 
blackfellow. Ro 252. 
he come back because of bad road. 
R 136. 
you give me bad word. V 252. 
he feel something bad in heart: angry. 
V 252. 
inside bad: grieved. V 253. 
bad inside: sorry. V 254. 


2. to make bad: to do harm to. 
I think that fellow he make bad for 
misinari. G 232. 
3. ill, sick. 
him fellow belly go bad: to have a 
stomach ache. 


bal bowels. (Laur, Lambell, King, Lamassa, 
bald; Efaté, bwala.) 
woman he hear him, bal belong him 
he move. SG 123. 


be no be fraid. SG 24. 

This is the sole instance of the sub- 
stantive verb in the literature of 
the subject; be is, nevertheless, 
very frequently in use, this being a 
quite natural result of the cheerful 
custom of the sailors to address the 
islanders in picturesquely rein- 
forced imperatives. 

beat heart beat hard: excited. V 253. 

A suspiciously accurate statement; in 
Beach-la-mar all locutions involv- 
ing the heart seem to be recent ac- 
quisitions from the store of knowl- 
edge acquired by the Polynesian 
preachers, 

because of on account of. 

he come back because of bad road: 
said of a yam which comes out of 
the ground. R 136. 

The precision of the preposition of is 
out of harmony with the jargon, 
and Mr. Ray has not included it 
specifically in his vocabulary 
thereof. 

bee one time Lamanian man he keep a bee 
there; now I think the bee he 
clear out. G 243. 

For a second reference to this exotic 
insect example of unstimulating 
industry see sugar-bag. 

been the common device to express past 
time of action. 

you been take me along three year. 
W 373- : 

you been eat’m this fella apple? 
£363; 


VOCABULARY. 35 


been 
you been broke ship belonga me. 


144. 
I been look round before. V 254. 


before earlier in time. 
before long time altogether no place 
he stop. L 363. 
I been look round before. V 254. 
behind rearward in space. 
very good you no go firs’, that fellow 


stop behin’. G 207. 
bell the metal bell and the smaller wooden 
drums. 


bokkis belong bell. L 361. 

The aboriginal box was carefully ex- 
cavated along the length of a tree 
trunk and a cover fitted to the open 
end. The first sailors in these 
waters found that their sea chests 
were highly regarded in barter. 
In the labor tradean invariable part 
of the payment was a box, the 
manufacture of which offered a 
profitable industry to Chinese 
joiners. One such mechanic in 
Fiji introduced the bell lock and 
leaped into a monopoly, for the 
islanders were quick to comprehend 
the burglar-alarm value of a lock 
which would ring warning when 
any attempt was made to tamper 
with it. 

belly the trunk cavity, both thoracic and 
abdominal. 

belly belong me walk about too much: 
to be seasick. L 360. 

my belly no got kaikai: to be hungry. 
V 253. 

short man big belly. HW 53. 

him fellow belly go bad: to have the 
stomach ache. 


belong see along, long. 
1. to live fin, to be a native of, to bea 

member of. 

he belong Burriburrigan. W 340. 

docta belong bush. SG 45. 

boy belong island. W 373. 

big fellow master plenty too much 
belong Cocopur. HW 53. 

he no proper man belong my place. 
Se 441. 

all same belong mainland. R 120. 

me belong a Iniet. SG rar. 


2. the common expression of the relation 
of possession. 
tail belong him. R 118. 
boy belong me. SG 29. 
pappa belong me. G 223. 
you kitch him money belong you. 


SG 24. 

spirit belong all white men no good. 
P 266. 

wife belong you no got water. Se 
383, 560. 








belong 
that fellow belong you? no belong 
me. L 362. 
god big fella marster belong white 
man. L 363. 


3. introducing a quality. 
that fella tree belong apple. 
water belong stink. Re 114. 
apple belong stink. 
4. introducing other relations. 
canoe belong play. V 254. 
no proper word belong talk. Se 587. 
very good belonga yam. 122. 
fellow belong simoke: cigar holder. 
Re 114. 
5. introducing verbs. 
very good belong boil yam. W 122. 
how much you pay belong stop along 
Vila? W 144. 
6. sense properly expressed by along q. v. 
(a) in reference to. 
me fraid belong kanaka he like kill 
youme. § 127. 
(b) to. 
bymby you go belong Sydney. SG 


L263. 


24. 
talk plenty bad belong man: to swear 
ata y 25a. 
you bring this belong master. 
(c) direct object. 
he puss-puss belong this fellow. 
SG 123. 
below see down below. 


best best thing you learn us. V 254. 
better better; more better: oughtto. V 
253. 
more better you come out. Se 383. 
have better class inside: appetite. 
V 253. 
big of magnitude and multitude. 
1. of size. 
big food: a feast. V 253; HW 53. 
man Sandwich make big wind. W 


S 301. 


144. 
he small now, bymbye he big. Se 623 
big big man: important. V 253. 
talk big: to promise. V 253. 
2. with fellow. 
(a) of size. 
big fellow name. 
G 108. 
(b) of number. 
I think you give me big fellow to- 
[sete ae Capp ee 
(c) as noun. 
big fellow he cry. Re 114. 
bit brief, small, as a measure. 
hold on a bit: wait. V 254. 
little bit: slightly. V 254. 
come a little bit good: to improve. 
A ae ge 
long way little bit. L 360. 
little bit dry. II. 
I eatum jus’ little fellow bit. 
long way big bit. L 360. 
bite to prick, to pierce, to be pungent. 
color like curry, he bite too. R 95. 


SS 93, 24ne 112. 


G 246. 


36 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


blackfellow the aboriginal. 
too much gammon blackfellow. Ro 


253. 

This, the common Australian desig- 
nation of the aborigines of that 
continent, seems to be employed in 
Beach-la-mar less frequently; the 
foregoing is the only instance of its 
use which I have found in print. 
Nigger is equally rare. 


blackman the aboriginal. 

big fella marster belong blackman: 
chief. L 359. 

Baron von Hesse-Wartegg (53) cites 
the description of a kanaka clad in 
white as ‘‘whitefellow blackman.”’ 
As a globe-trotter and a German 
he lost the sense of the impropriety 
in this collocation; it would go 
hard, and that very suddenly, 
with a kanaka whose vocabulary 
included this expression within the 
hearing of a plantation overseer. 


blood blood, sap of trees. 
he full up blood he kill him. Se 563. 


bloody strong qualification. 

I bloody fool. V 253. 

a bloody rogue. V 253. 

This, expletive in Austral English and 
regarded as such profanity as calls 
for the awesome dash in print, is 
not even intensive in Beach-la-mar; 
the same characterization holds in 
respect of damn, which is alto- 
gether milder than bloody in 
Colonial speech. The employment 
of profanity, even the most shock- 
ing, by the kanaka is innocent and 
imitative; his habit of mind finds 
no joy in curt damns, objurgation 
with him is a protracted, a complete 
and altogether a _ soul-satisfying 
art not lightly to be shorn of its 
patiently evolved finish. 


boat boat, ship. 

me savvee look out along boat. 
1) 36%. 

This is used only of foreign boats, the 
island craft being invariably canoe 
or of some dialectic form of vaka. 

boil a rare process in island cookery. 

belong boil yam. 132. 

Commonly no attempt at differenti- 
ation is made and cook covers all 
culinary processes. 

bone bone, stone. 

my bone creaked; bone along me 
slew: to be bewitched. V 252. 

he oo bone got no meat: to be thin. 

254. 

he take one fella bone belong him and 
he make’m one fella mary along 
bone. L 363. 

no good garden, too much bone: 
stony ground. 

boom boom, sprit, gaff. 

that fella boom he walk about too 

much. L 360. 


boss a modern Australian contribution. 
master; to order about. V 253. 
both in dual sense. 
me Sandfly both speak. W 373. 
This is the only instance I have found 
of both; in classic Beach-la-mar 
this dual would be expressed ‘‘me 
Sandfly two fellow speak.”’ 
bottle see square-face. 
cooky fetch one fellow bottle some- 
thing makee cold. HW 97. 
box case, chest, trunk. 
big fellow bokus you fight him he cry: 
piano. 
little fellow bokus you shove him he 
cry, you pull him he cry: accordeon 
or concertina. 
woman leg you got in one fellow box. 
G 260. 
bokkis belong bell. L 361, 364. 
boy the use of boy regardless of age is char- 
acteristic wherever the English 
dominate a less assertive race. 
I. a general term for man. 
yee es out belong boy belong me. 
29. 


some boy he get him spear. Se 560. 
plenty boy die. W 349, 15. 
boy belong island. W 373. 
2.in the common English sense. 
he small boy: a foolish man. V 253. 


bread sea-biscuit or other. crackers; soft 
bread is not wholly practicable in 
island life, but where it is known 
it is called falaoa (flour). 
break out that bread: open that tin 
of biscuit. 
break to smash, to come to pieces. 
I. in the intransitive sense. 
head belong him he break plenty. 
G 198. 
yam he break very quick suppose you 
no put him down very good. G 
237. 
2. transitive. 
my word, cappen, that fellow break 
plenty match: the kanaka com- 
ment at first sight of a revolving 
lighthouse. W 97. 
break out that bread: open that tin 
of biscuit. This (the sailor breaks 
out cargo) is used only of the larger 
containers, 
broke 
I. intransitive. 
cappen he broke 
2. transitive. 
man Sandwich make big wind, big 
wind broke ship belonga me. 


W 97. 


144. 
bring I do not recall the word, the sense is 
far more commonly expressed by 
the locution you take him he come. 
brother brother, sister, cousin; in some 
places all persons born in the same 
year, as determined by the yam 
harvest, are brothers. 
they like brother: to be friendly. 
Vo2en. 


VOCABULARY. 37 


bugger up one of the disfigurements com- 
ing from Austral English. 


to spoil. V 254. 
bullamacow (pulumakau). London (361) 
S says: 


‘‘Bullamacow means tinned beef. 
This word was corrupted from the 
English language by the Samoans, 
and from them learned by the 
traders, who carried it along with 
them into Melanesia. Captain 
Cook and the other early naviga- 
tors made a practice of introducing 
seeds, plants, and domestic animals 
amongst the natives. It was at 
Samoa that one such navigator 
landed a bull and a cow. ‘This is 
a bull and a cow,’ said he to the 
Samoans. They thought he was 
giving the name of the breed, and 
from that day to this beef on the 
hoof and beef in the tin is called 
bullamacow.”’ 

The word can not be Samoan because 
of the ahsence of the true & from 
that language, and it is not in use 
in that archipelago, where pisupo 
(peasoup, q. v.) serves for tinned 
beef. With more of circumstance 
the invention of the neologism is 
credited to the Fijians on the intro- 
duction of cattle by the mission- 
aries. Pulomokau is found (s. v. 
beef) in the English vocabulary of 
the second edition of Hazlewood’s 
dictionary of that language (1872). 
It is quite generally used in the 
Beach-la-mar. 


bulopenn Dr. Stephan (SG 20) cautions 
the collector of New Ireland lan- 
guages not to record bulopenn as 
the word for ornament, since it is 
only a scrambled form of blue 
paint. It affords an interesting 
example of the local development 
of jargon: we find many such 
words in local use; it was only in 
the mixture of the plantation and 
the labor trade that they found 
exit to a wider currency which 
might establish them as a part of 
the Beach-la-mar. 


burn cook is better usage in this sense. 
man Matupi fight along him burn 
house. W 290. 


bush the jungle sense has developed in 
English since the American hived 
off. 


1. in general all land not under cultivation 
or occupation for residence, whether 
covered with forest or with alang 
grass. 

bush stop far off gardens there: land 
under tilth. Se 614. 
rope along bush: liana. R 97. 


bush 
2. with a wholesome regard of the wild 
inhabitants. 
docta belong bush: 
SG 45. 
man bush. Glaumont, Nouvelles- 
Hébrides 71. 
3. of the individual plants. 
small bush in gardens: weeds. R 122 


but the authority is not wholly satisfactory 
for this single instance. 

but plenty kaikai; yes, but me like 

liklik work liklik kaikai. SG 29. 


butcher kaikai meat along butcher. R 108 
buy you buy boy? you buy yam? Ws. 


by=and=by it is susceptible of loose quali- 
fication, bymby one time (day) im- 
mediately after now, bymby little 

bit, bymby big bit, bymby long time. 

1. of futurity in general. 
you kitch him, by-and-by you go 
belong Sydney. SG 24. 
by-nd-by this fellow he die. SG 26. 
potey me come back and eaty you. 
97. 

bymbye he sorry he no take him. 


necromancer, 


Se 444. 

bymbye all men laugh along that boy. 
Se 567. 

he small now, bymbye he big. Se 
623. 

hear um sing out, by-n’-by hear um 
plenty smell. G 259. 


2. of futurity relative to a past time. 

by-and-by boy belong island he 
speak. W 373. 

bimeby one day Eve she come along 
Adam. L 363. 

by-n’-by he speak wantum one fellow 
water. G1098. 

that fellow stop behin’, by-n’-by he 
go on, then you coming. G 207. 


calaboose Spanish through sailor English. 
aprison. S 301. 
you catch ’em man bush, you put ’em 
calaboose. What name? Him 
plenty kaikai too much. The 
sentence of this being, what’s the 
earthly use of a penology which 
pampers the criminal. 


calico this term covers all woven fabrics in 


trade. 
yes, me like calico. W 123. 


call 
1. to give a name to. 
he call’m thisfellamanAdam. L 363. 
2. to have a name. 
what’m call this fellow? 
3. to summon. 
god he speak “‘me call’m you too 
much.” L 363. 


38 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


canoe V 254. 

Dialectic variants of vaka, the Poly- 
nesian word for canoe, are in famil- 
iar use, waka and wangga having 
the widest currency. 


can’t all same dark you can’t see. Se 610. 
This is the only instance discovered 
of a potential, 70 savvy more com- 
monly serving thatend. In my ex- 
perience such a question as “‘can 
you do this?’”’ would be answered 
‘“‘me make ’um”’ or ‘‘me no make 
’um.’’? This seems all the more 
remarkable when we recall how large 
a part can playsin the Pidginof the 
China coast, even as long ago as 
1743, as shown in this instance 
from Commodore Anson’s voyage, 
‘‘Chinese man very great rogue 
truly, but have fashion, no can 
help.” 


captain cited as cap (W 290), cappen (W 
373), captain (HW 97). 

The word is generally understood but 
seldom employed by the islanders, 
except when Captain and the 
patronymic pass for a man’s name 
(e. g. Cap Wan W290). The 
reason therefor may inhere in the 
fact that it is not a habit of the 
kanaka mind to address individ- 
uals by title of rank or relation- 
ship. 


capsize the expression is general in the 
whole range of senses of overturn- 
ing, emptying, pouring. 
“One would not tell a Melanesian 
cook to empty the dishwater, but 
to capsize it.”” L 361. 
you make him capsize that fellow 
yam: to spill. G 207. 


carry see hump. 
mary belong Malekula man _ she 
carry yam all-a-time. G 207. 


catch 
1. to take, to get, to obtain, to have. 

you go catch’m bokkis belong you. 
L 364. 

you kitch him by-and-by you go be- 
long Sydney, white man hear him, 
he put money, you kitch him 
money belong you. SG 24. 

suppose me kitch him grass. SG 25. 


2. to take hold of. 
woman he look him, he run him, he 
kitch this fellow man, he speak 
him puss-puss. SG 123. 


3. other uses. 
by-and-by I catch you: to find one 
out. V 253. 
he catch him place: toarrive. V 252. 


chance this fellow he kaikai you if he get 
chance. Wa 152. 





chief very good you go look chief belonga 
me. W 143. 

The word is in the most general use, 
therefore it would not have been 
necessary for Mr. London’s sea 
captain to say “‘bring’m me fella 
one big fella marster belong black 
man.’’ He would have been com- 
prehended, but later the comment 
would have been passed ‘“‘that 
fella no savvy talk proper” and 
just a shade of accent resting on 
fella would indicate that the savage 
had his opinion of a white man who 
would call himself ‘‘me fella.’’ 

child child he come out: tobe born. V 252. 

This is the only recorded example of 
anything but pickaninny in the 
sense of child. 

chuck he chuck fishing line. V 254. 

he no chuck him bone: to throw 
away. V 254. 

Heave is far more common in the 
sense of throwing. 

cigar Re 114. 
clam any shell fish. 

small fella clam, kaikai he stop. 
L 360. 

class have better class inside: appetite. 
V 252. 
clear out to go away. 
now I think bee he clear out. G 243. 
close up 
1. almost, nearly. 

he close up sink. V 253. 

close up altogether along that fella 
garden belong you two fella. 
L363: 
close up daylight. 

2.soon. V 254. 
coconut 
1. the tree and fruit. 
along garden plenty yam he stop, 
plenty coconut. L 363. 
2. the head. 

coconut belong him grass no stop: to 

be bald. 
cold take cold heart: mild-tempered. 
one fellow bottle something makee 
cold. HW 97. 
color color like curry, he bite too. 
come 
1.in general, though not rigidly, anti- 
thetic to go. 

he know hecomealong Ceara. W349. 

bimeby one day Eve she come along 
Adam. L 363. 

he no sileep, he come, he puss-puss 
belong this fellow. SG 123. 

god he come walk about along garden. 
L 363. 

2. governing the terminus ad quem. 
suppose you come my place you look 
out, my word. Ro 252. 
3. in the sense of become. 

he come a little bit good: to improve. 

V 253. 


V 253. 


R 95. 


VOCABULARY. 39 


come 
4. to bring, to fetch. 
you take him he come: to bring here. 
Re 114. 
I think he plenty cross that schooner 
no takee-him come-him friend. 
G 232. 
5. come back: to return. 
he come back because of bad road. 
R 136. 
6. where you come from? Wis. 
7.more better you come out and get 
water. Se 383. 
child he come out: tobe born. V 252 
8. come up: to rise, to be raised. 
sun he come up he go work. W 349, 
L 360. 
land he come up. SG 30. 
9. brother belong tamiok (an axe) he come 
he go: asaw. F roo. 


coming by-n’-by he go on then you 
coming. G 207. 
cook to cook in any manner, to burn. 
all he cook him belong Mangin: all 
Mangin’s property is burned after 
his death. SG go. 
fire he cook’m plenty too much: to 
be ablaze. 
cook him small hot: partly done. 
V 253. 


cooky a cook, any servant. 


copper as aboard ship, the common desig- 
nation of any pot or similar cooking 
utensil of metal. 

copper-maori oven R 90, 168. 

*“This word is as widely spread in the 

South Sea islands as kaikat. Dr. 
Codrington states that it is a com- 
pound of kopa, English copper, and 
maori, a native of New Zealand. 
Hence it is the ‘Maori’s copper,’ 
a term used by traders, whalers, 
etc., to designate the native 
method of cooking.’’ It seems to 
me that it is going a long way to 
connect maort with the Maori 
when so much nearer at hand the 
word is widespread in its proper 
signification of native, indigenous. 


creaked my bone creaked: to be bewitched 


V 252. 
crooked he talk too much crooked: to de- 
ceive. V 253. 


cross this covers every degree of anger and 
its expression. I recall that a 
blunder in navigation which might 
have resulted disastrously induced 
me to admonish a Mwala boy, and 
at the time I flattered myself that 
my choice of expletives was scath- 
ing yet well selected. The only 
comment from the victim of the 
vituperation was: ‘‘My word, me 
fella think you plenty cross along 
me too much.”’ 


cross 

god big fella marster he cross along 
Adam Eve two fella too much. 
L 364. 

me cross long woman me rauss him. 
SG 109. 

he plenty cross that schooner no 
takee him. G 232. 

inside him he cross. V 252. 


cry to make a noise with the voice or with 
a sounding instrument, to wail, to 
sing, to weep; this lack of discrimi- 
nation is characteristic of the lan- 
guages atlarge, e. g. the Polynesian 
tangi which is widely disseminated 
in Melanesia as a loan word (see 
“The Polynesian Wanderings” 
page 412.) 
what name lady he makicry. SG 27. 
big fellow bokkus you fight him he 
cry: piano. 
little fellow bokkus you shove him he 
cry you pull him hecry: accordeon. 
make no morecry: to comfort. R 


144. 
cry like hell. V 254. 
curry color like curry, he bite too. R95. 


cutter any vessel of one fixed mast. G198, 
R 252. 
dark all same dark you can’t see. Se 610. 


day by-n’-by one day. L363. 
daylight small daylight: early morning. 


142. 
small fellow daylight: daybreak. V 


253- 
he look daylight a long time: to lie 
awake. V 252. 
dead what name we go Ambrym, you no 
good, you dead. G 198. 
go dead: to die. 
deck L 359. 
devil ghost, spirit. V 253. 
make him devil: to perform funeral 
ceremonies. V 253. 


devil=devil a death dance. V 253. 

When reprobating the conduct of 
sailors who for their own idle amuse- 
ment crowd the lips of these eager 
savages with uncomprehended in- 
famies of speech, it seems a little 
shabby to inflict upon the unwit- 
ting islander so polemic a charact- 
erization of the impropriety of his 
ancestral beliefs and customs. 
But such an enforced petitio 
principii is by no means restricted 
to the practice of traders and other 
seafaring folk; the missionaries in 
Fiji labored with considerable suc- 
cess to establish for the islanders 
of that archipelago the belief that 
devil was the proper English ren- 
dering of Fijian. 


40 


die suppose me kitch him grass he die. 
G 25, 121. 
More commonly go dead. 
dinner that fellow place you eatum dinner. 
G 259. 
do he no good, what for he do that if girl no 
want him. Se 567. 
what name he do that: how did it 
happen, how was it done? V 253. 


doctor docta belong bush: necromancer. 


45. 

doctal: Dr. Hahl, governor of the 
Bismarck Archipelago, as pro- 
nounced by island tongues. SG 20. 


door not only the door of a house of Euro- 
pean construction, but it is ex- 
tended to the lid of a box and to the 
operculum of the common univalve 
Turbo petholatus. 
make’m door adrift: to open. 


down you no put him down. G 207. 
me two fellow me fight down below: 
in the tweendecks. SG 22. 
tumble down: to die. 
dream man he dream himhe find him along 
reef. Se 173. 


drink me fellow me drink him. SG 27. 
dry little bit dry. Ruut. 


eat kai or kaikai is a far more frequent ex- 
pression of this sense. 
well, I eatum just little fellow bit. 
G 246, 259. 
we eat’m this fella apple. L 363. 
english the islanders’ designation of Beach- 
la-mar. 
that fellow whiteman no savvy talk 
English. S 300. 
eye put eye on me too much: to stare at. 
V 254. 
go look’m eye belong you along deck. 
L 359. 


far bush stop far off. Se 6r4. 
fashion, fash’ custom, manner. 

old time fashion. Se 323. 

long time fashion. V 253. 

fashion belong we fellow. V 253. 

one fashion: alike. V 253. 

Santo fash’: A la mode d’Espiritu 
Santo—the force of the adjective 
being geographical rather than 
hagiographic. 

A similar use seems once to have been 
very common in the sailor English. 
‘‘Shipshape and Bristol (or Brister) 
fashion”’ is a survival, though not 
exactly comprehended as to the 


latter member. ‘“‘My country 
fashion’”’ is found in Robinson 
Crusoe. 


BEACH-LA-MAR. 


fast 

1. the speed sense is more commonly ex- 
pressed by quick and look alive. 

2. fastened, stuck, aground. 
that ship he fast: on the reef. 
my throat he fast: to be dumb. V 

253. 

make fast. V 254. 
make rope fast along head. V 254. 


father father mother he no wild. Se 567. 
small father: the father’s younger 
brother. V 253. 


feel feel no good: to be ashamed. V 252. 
feel inside: to know. V 253. 
feel another kind inside: to change 
one’s mind. V 252. 
he feel something bad in heart: to be 
angry. V 252. 
fellow 
1. functioning as noun. 
no be fraid Jonni, he good fellow. SG 


24. 
he good fella too much. L 363. 
2. in adjective use. 

(a) definitive of pronouns: see this fellow, 
that fellow, me fellow, you fellow; 
note—pronouns of the third person 
seem not to employ or to need the 
reinforcement of fellow. 

(b) definitive of adjectives: see big fellow, 
small fellow, strong fellow, another 
fellow. 

(c) with numerals. 

two fellow men, three fellow bottle. 


W 53. 
ten fellow ten one fellow: 1o1. HW 
63. 
fence god he make’m big fennis all around 
garden. L 364. 
fetch cooky fetch one fellow bottle. HW 
97. 
This is more idiomatically expressed 
by take ’em he come. 
fight to strike. Rerrq. 
me two fellow me fight. SG 22. 
big fellow bokus you fight him he cry: 
piano. 
big fellow bokkes suppose misses he 
fight him he cry too much: piano. 
F 100. 
spear good along fight. Se 560. 
man Matupi fight along him. W 290. 
you fellow strong along fight. Se 560. 
when kaikai he fight: when eaten it 
“one said of a pungent Morinda. 
gi. 
find more commonly catch. 
he find him along reef. Se 173. 
fine he no gammon fine yam. V 253. 
finish 
1. indicative of completion of the action. 
he stink finish. SG 117. 
grass belong head belong him all he 
die finish: to be bald. F 100. 
kill him finished. R 114. 
me look him finish: I have seen. 
S 301. 


VOCABULARY. 41 


finish 
2. transitive: to kill. 
3. to make an end of. 
when they finish eat ’um. L 363. 


V 253. 


4. to desist. 
finish, finish, you speak too much 
taboo. SG 121. 
5. all finish. 


suppose this fellow man he sabe he 
die, all finish. SG2s5. 
he kaikai all finish: to eat all up. S 


304. 
6. go finish: to die. 
pappa belong me he go finish yes’er- 
day. G 223,198. 
7. you two fella finish along me alto- 
gether: I am done with you. L 364. 


fire fire he cook’m plenty too much: to be 
ablaze. 
fire place: crater of volcano. G 259. 
heart belong him all same fire: to be 
enraged. V 253. 


first very good you no go firs’, that fellow 
stop behin’. G 207. 
first time: formerly. V 253. 


fish fish he stop. L 360. 
fishing line V 254. 


fix to do, to make. 
he fix’m that fellow boat. 


flash make flash: to dress for a dance. 


253. 

put on all flash things: to dress for a 
dance. V 253. 

ornament. V 253. 


food more commonly kazkaz. 
big food: a feast. V 253. 


fool make fool of: to cheat. V 252. 
I bloody fool. V 253. Cf. small boy. 


for all man he growl for you: to be opposed 
TOE 254: 
he spell for little: to rest. V 253. 
you fellow look out for spear good 
along fight, look out good for 
spear or some boy he get him spear. 
Se 560. 
for killum man. G 232. 
make bad for misinari. G 232. 
no good for. Se 7o. 
what for. Se 567. 
four two, three, four week. G 260. 
fowl wild fowl. V 253. 
fraid see fright. 
too much he fraid long way from 
village. Se 162. 
what for you fraid? W 258. 
no be fraid Jonni, he good fellow. 


SG 24. 
me fraid belong kanaka he like kill 
youme. $127. 


friend a term of frequent use yet of im- 
perfect amity. 
he plenty cross that schooner no 
takee-him come-him friend. G 
232: 


fright he too muchfright: afraid. Se552- 
my word, they fright like hell. L 363. 
me fright along you too much. L 361. 


from long way from village. Se 162. 
full he full up blood he kill him. Se 563. 


game another kind of game: different cere- 
mony. V 252. 
gammon (Nicholas found it in use in 1815 
in New Zealand.) 
to lie, to exaggerate, to joke. L 360. 
to cheat, to deceive, to pretend. V 
352-3. 
bad man too much gammon black- 
fellow. Ro 252. 
god big fella marster he gammon 
along you. L 363. 
expletive: Eve she speak ‘‘Gammon! 
What name?” L363. 
no gammon: really. 
he no gammon fine yam. V 253. 
garden this is restricted to the culture of 
the islanders, see plantation. 
bush stop far off gardens there. Se 
614. 
he make’m big fella garden. L 363. 
get you get water, wife belong you no got 
water. Se 383. 
some boy he get him spear: to be 
speared. Se 560. 
no get him plenty kaikai. W 349. 
get to hell along scrub. L 364. 
why you stop him get hurt. Wa 152. 
this fellow kaikai you if he get chance. 
Wa 152. 
girl girls no good. Se 70, 567. 
give he give’m this fella Eve along Adam. 
L 363. 
he give this fella marster belong god 
one big fella musket. L 364. 
you give me bad word. V 252. 
you give me good road: to direct 
aright. V 253. 
glad he glad for that fish. V 253. 
go 
1. of motion away. 
boy he like go. W115. 
what name we go Ambrym? G198. 
very good you no go firs’. G 207. 
some place me go man no good. L 
361. 
you golonghousebelongme. Re114. 
by and by you go belong Sydney. 
SG 24. 
go along my man: to accompany. 
V 252. 
go alonga home. 
2. to be in motion. 
him fellow go all time: a watch. Re 
II4. 
3. to become. 
him fellow belly go bad: stomach 
ache. 
him go dead: to die. 
by-n’-by he go finish: to die. G 198. 


W 349. 


42 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


go 
4. inception of an act or state immediately 

designated. 

sun he go down he go sleep. W 349. 

these two fella they goeat’m. L 363. 

they go hide along scrub. L 363. 

you go catch’m bokkis belong you. 
L 364. 


5. let go: torelease. V 253. 


let go heart: to covet. V 253. 
6. go down: to descend. 
sun he go down. W 349. 


go-to=hell ‘Until recently the word for a 
large bush knife was kwasikwasi, 
but a man named Kwasikwasiero 
died not very long ago, so a bush 
knife is now known as go-to-hell.”’ 
Se 630. 


good adjective. 
1. he plenty good kaikai, one fellow man; 
plenty good, Missi, all same one 
fellow chicken. G 212. 
you fellow look out for spear good 


along fight. Se 560. 

they two fella have’m good time,too 
much. L 363. 

give me good road: to guide, to direct 
aright. V 253. 

he come a little bit good: to improve. 
V 253. 


man o’ bush very good. W 284. 
he strong, he good, he true. SG 124. 
this fellow he good. SG 27. 
he good fella too much. L363, SG 
24. 
2.in verbal use. 
more good you me two fella we eat’m 
this fella apple. L 363. 
very good you no go firs.’ G 207. 
3.no good. (In use in New Zealand in 
1815, according to Nicholas.) 
that fellow captain no good only 


takee tea. HW 07. 
spirit belong all white men no good. 
P 266. 


he no good, what for he do that if girl 
no want him. Se 557, 70. 

man-Sydney no good, too much salt. 
W 384. 

you no good you dead. G1o98. 

he make all man feel no good: 
ashamed. V 252. 

no good you talk: itis useless. V 254. 

no good you kill him: it is wrong. 
V 254. 

good adverb. 

you watch me good. V 252. 

yam he break very quick suppose you 
no put him downvery good. G 207. 

look out good for spear. Se 560. 


got see get. 
1. this Ae entirely takes the place of 
ave. 
he eat woman leg you got in one 
fellow box. G 260. 
my belly no got kaikai: to be hungry. 
V 253. 


got 


wife belong you nogotwater. Se 383. 
he got house other side Matupi. W 
290. 
2. he got good hand: to be skilful. V 254. 
3. you fellow got him: to understand. 
V 254. 
grass suppose me kitch him grass he die: to 
pick flowers. SG 25. 
coconut belong him grass no stop: to 
be bald. 
grass belong pigeon: feathers. V 253. 
grave man he savy this fellow grave. Se 
623. 
grog V 253. 
growl all man he growl for you: every one 
is against you. V 252. 
to disapprove. V 253. 
to quarrel. V 253. 


half Se 461. 
half-tight: scarcity of water. 
half way insky. R 1o1. 
hand he got good hand: skilful. 
hard 


V 253. 
V 254. 


heart beat hard: to be excited. V 
253. 
hard up: scarcity of food: V 253. 
have see got. 
they two fella have’m good time too 


much. L 363. 
have better class inside: appetite. 
V 252. 


he note that when he is used as subject it 
does not seem permissible to use 
the form he-fellow. 
masculine. 
he tell me takeum cutter. 
man he keep a bee there. G 243. 
Tannaman he eat woman. G 260. 
this fellow he no sabe talk. SG 20. 
he likkilik all right now. SG 22. 
man he dream him he find him along 
reef. Se 162. 
feminine. 
what name lady he makicry? SG 27, 
110. 
that fellow mary he no savee carry 
yam. G 207. 
Queen Victoria he look out. W 386. 
woman he look him, he run him. 
SG 123. 
neuter. 
head belong him he break plenty. G 


G 198. 


198. 
bee he clear out. G 243, SG 23. 
all he cook him belong Mangin. SG 


99. 
yam he break very quick. G 207. 
plural. 
father mother he no wild. Se 567. 
alla Malekula man he say. G 207. 
all he talk. SG 121. 
you savez two white men stop Matupi 
he got house. W 290. 


VOCABULARY. 43 


head more idiomatically coconut. 
he go finish yes’erday and I bring him 
head. G 223, 198. V 254. 
hear white man he hear him. SG 24, 123. 
hear um sing out, by-n’-by hear um 
plenty smell. G 259. 
heart these are all derived from the Torres 
Straits region and impress me as a 
recent refinement due to missionary 
teaching; itis not the heart but the 
liver which is held by the islanders 
to be the seat of the emotions. 
let go heart: to covet. V 253. 
heart belong him all same fire: to be 
enraged. V 253. 
heart beat hard: to be excited. V 


253. 
take cold heart: to be mild tempered. 


¥ 253. 
I like you proper with my heart 
inside. V 253. 


heart along him think. V 254. 
heave to cast, to throw. 
heave up: to vomit. 
heavy 
eye along him heavy: to be sleepy. 
V 254 
skin belong me heavy: to be thirsty. 
V 254. 
hell cf. go-to-hell. 
wail like hell: to be angry. R115. 
cry like hell. V 254. 


V 254. 


they fright like hell. L 363. 

get to hell. L 364. 

make hell of a noise. R 109. 
here better this place. 

here no kaikai. SG ro. 


hide they go hide along scrub. L 363. 
him common gender. 

me cross long woman me rauss him. 
SG 109. 110, 123. 

big fellow bokkus you savvee him? 

medicine belong him. SG 123. 

possessive. 

I bring him head. G223. It is 
equally explicable as objective 
aspect. 

himself inside tell himself: to consider. 
V 253. 

hold on to wait. V 254. 

hook it torun away. V 253. 

hospital me takeum cutter big fellow hos- 
pital. G 1098. 

hot cook him small hot: partly done. V 


253. 
house you go long house belong me. Re 
114, W 290. 
house paper: government office. 
W o2. 
how how much you pay? W 144. 
humbug 
make him humbug: to influence with 
charms. V 253. 


humbug him he no go: to prevent 
from going. 


humbug 

The latter sense of humbug I have 
found also in the vocabulary of a 
negro boatman on Crow Lane, 
Bermuda, in the phrase ‘“‘to hum- 
bug from doing,’ apparently to 
prevent through the interposition 
of obstacles more annoying than 
serious. 


hump this seems to me the more frequent 
term for carry, and I recall the ex- 
pressions ‘‘to hump a load,’ ‘‘to 
hump a pickaninny;’ perhaps it 
may prove to refer to such carrying 
as is done on the body rather than 
in the arms or hands, the island 
languages most uniformly making 
such distinction. In Australia the 
phrases ‘‘to hump one’s bluey (the 
blanket roll,)’”’ “‘tohumptheswag,”’ 
are common in the speech of 
bushmen. 


hurt why you stop him get hurt? W 152. 
I see me. 
yes, I killum all right. G 215, 223, 
232, 246. 


if see suppose. 
what for he do that if girl no want 
him. Se 567. 
this fellow kaikai you if he get chance. 
Wa 152. 
iguana the monitor lizard (Varanus). 
This name is common in Austral 
English in designation of any large 
lizard, often pronounced gowannow. 


in leg you got in one fellow box. G 260. 
half-way in sky. R ror. 
something bad in heart. V 252. 


inside jump inside: to be startled. R117. 

like milk inside. R ror. 

inside him he cross: to be angry. V 
252. 

have better class inside: appetite. 
V 252. 

feel another kind inside: to change 
the mind. V 252. 

inside tell himself: to consider. V 
252. 

he wild inside: to be enraged. V 253. 

inside bad: to be grieved. V 253. 

feel inside: to know. V 253. 

I like you proper with my heart in- 
side. V 253. 

he bad inside: to be sorry. V 254. 

think inside: to think. V 254. 

no speak out, keep himinside. V 254. 

island boy belong island he speak. W 373. 

all along same as island in the sky. 

V 252. 


jump jump inside: to be startled. R117. 
jump up: to rise. 


44 


just well, I eatum jus’ little fellow bit. 


246. 
tail belong him just like oar. R 118. 


kaikai, kai this stem is pure Polynesian; in 
my studies of Melanesian speech 
(The Polynesian Wanderings, Ap- 
pendix I, item 46) I have found it 
in but three languages of that 
province, Mabuiagin Torres Straits, 
Sariba and Suau on the Papuan 
shore, and this is the waterway 
through which swept the southern 
stream of the earliest Polynesian 
migration out of the Malay Archi- 
pelago. ‘The strictly Melanesian 
word in the same sense, to eat, is 
kant or some easily recognizable 
variant. The Polynesian kai was 
acquired by white men in their long 
acquaintance with the central and 
eastern Pacific and by them im- 
pressed upon the islanders of the 
western chains. It was reported 
from New Zealand in 1815 by 
Nicholas. 
noun: food, meat, eating. 

here no kaikai. SG ro. 

he plenty good kaikai one fellow man. 
G 212, Se 614. 

small fellow clam kaikai he stop. L 
360. 

my belly no got kaikai: to be hungry. 


253. 
big fellow kaikai plenty too much. 


HW 1309. 
verb. 
1. to eat. 

suppose me kaikai pig me die. SG 
121. 

he kaikai you if he get chance. Wa 
152. 

he kaikai along me. L 361. 

kaikai meat along butcher. R 108. 


2. to be eaten. 
when kaikai he fight. Ror. 
kalass glass, mirror. SG 27. 
kanaka natives of the islands. This is pure 
Polynesian and impressed upon the 
Melanesians by the white voyagers. 
In Polynesian the word is tangata, 
it is only in Hawaiian that the 
dialectic variation produces the 
form kanaka. From this we are 
warranted in drawing the conclu- 
sion that the word came into sailor 
English aboard the whaleships, for 
Honolulu was their principal port 
for refitting after the voyages in 
search of the cachalot and before 
setting north in pursuit of the 
right whale. 
me fraid belong kanaka. § 127. 
keep he keep a bee there. G 243. 
no speak out, keep himinside. V 254. 


BEACH-LA-MAR. 


kiab master. Local to the Bismarck Archi- 


pelago. 
you sabe too much, kiab. Sg 25, 60, 
124. 
kiaman to tell lies. Local to the Bismarck 
Archipelago. 
all he kiaman. SG 121. 


kiau egg. New Britain, Gazelle Peninsula. 
kill 
1.to beat. Re 114. 
suppose you killum kanaka one time 
he sore, suppose you killum killum 
plenty too much mebbe he die 
finish. 
2. to kill. 
yes, I killum all right. G 215, 232. 
3. to die. 
he full up blood he kill him. Se 563. 
(A penalty of eating a tabu body, the 
blood rises up into the sinner’s 
throat and he dies therefrom.) 
kind 
he savy that another kind: to know 
better. Se 623. 
another kind of: different. V 252. 
he feel another kind inside: to change 
the mind. V 252. 
knife W 386. See go-to-hell. 
know he know he come. W 349. 
kumara the Polynesian name for the 
sweet potato. 


lady what name lady he makicry? SG 27. 
land land he come up. SG 30. 
laugh bymby all men laugh along that boy. 
Se 567. 
he plenty laugh. G 207. 
lazy me too much lazy. SG2o9. 
suppose he lazy he hit him a little 
fellow. W 349. 
learn to teach. 
best thing you learn us. V 254. 
leg leg you got in one fellow box. G 260. 
let he no take him, let another fellow_man 
take him. Se 444. 
let go heart: to covet. V 253. 
let go: to release. V 253. 
like adverb. 
tail belong him just like oar. 
wail like hell. Rai15. 
like milk inside. R ror. 
color like curry. R95. 
they fright like hell. L 363. 
strong like stone. V 252. 
like brother. V 253. 
like verb. 
he no like that work. W 349, SG 29, 
60. 
me like him two rifle. L 361. 
you like me proper: to love. V 253. 
what name you nolike’m me? L 363. 
he like kill you me. S127. 
me like too much: to love. 


has be 


R 118. 


V 253, 


VOCABULARY. 


likkilik, liklik Polynesian and Melanesian 
likt small, see ‘““The Polynesian 
Wanderings,” page 229. 
1. almost, pretty nearly. See close up. 
he likkilik allright now. SG 22. 
2. little, small. 
me like liklik work liklik kaikai. 
SG 29. 
limlibur New Britain, Gazelle Peninsula. 
to take a walk, todonothing. S301. 
Cf. walk about. 


line rope. 
make’m fast that fellow line. 


little jus’ little fellow bit. G 246. 
he hit him a little fellow. W 349. 
he spell for little: to rest. V 253. 
little bit dry. Rou11. 


load to hump a load: to carry a burden on 
the back or on a pole. Cf. hump. 
long preposition. by, at, with,on; Re114. 
See along, belong. 
me cross long woman me rauss him. 
Sg 109. 
yougo long house belongme. Re 114. 
you look long big fellow he cry sup- 
pose me fight him. Re 114. 
me take him all time long cigar: 
holder. Re 114. 
no sabe talk long white man. SG 20. 


long adjective. 
long fellow missis. S 303. 
long time ago. W 290. 
stop long time. W 380. 
before long time altogether no place 
he stop. L 362. 
he fraid long way from village. Se 
162. 
long way little bit; long way big bit; 
long way too much. L 360. 
look noun. 
this look: this way, 
V 254. 
look verb. 
r..to see. 
woman he look him. SG 123. 
very good you go look chief belonga 
me. W 143. 
he look’m this fella Adam he walk 
about too much. L 363. 
suppose you look’m these two fella. 
L 364. 
god he no savvee look along us two 
fella. L363, V 254. 
he savvee look along nusipepa: to be 
able to read. 
2. to look. 
go look’m eye belong you along deck: 


L 359. 
3. no look’m me too much: tostareat. V 


this fashion. 


254. 

4. me ao him: to look him over. W 15. 
5. he look daylight a long time: to lie 
awake. V 252. ; 
6.he look very smart: to act quickly. 


253. 
look alive: hurry up, be quick. 





45 


look out 
1. to care for, to take an interest in. 
Queen Victoria he look out all man 
stop this place. W 386. 
you look out boy belong me. SG 29. 
mesavvee look out along boat. L361. 
2. to guard against. 
look out good for spear or some boy 
get him spear. Se 560. 
suppose you come my place you look 
out. Ro 252. 
3. to be on good behavior. 
me speak cappen belong man-o’war 
suppose you no look out. W 144. 
4.tofind. V 253. 
5.toseek. V 253. 


look round to seek: I been look round 
before. V 254. 
loose to omit. 
he no loose him one fellow night. 
F 105. 
low speak very low. V 254. 


mainland allsamebelong mainland. R120. 
make 
1. to make, with noun object. 
make fool of. V 252 
make wau wau wau: to make a fuss. 
HW 53. 
make hell of a noise: to make an out- 
cry. R 109. 
he make’m altogether; he make’m 
big fella garden. L 363. 
make’m trouble along boy. L 363. 
he make’m one big fennis. L 364. 
make him humbug. V 253. 
2. to do. 
you work work all’m time too much, 
what you make’m? 
3. verb formative with adjectives. 
bottle something makee cold. HW 


97- 

make adrift: to untie, to open. 

make fast. V 252. 

make flash. V 253. 

he make bad for misinari. G 232. 

4. auxiliary to verbs in causative sense. 

make him capsize: to spill. G 207. 

what name lady he maki cry: to sing. 
SG 27. 

he make’m Adam he go sleep. L 363. 

he make all manfeelno good. V 252. 

make no more cry: to comfort. R 
144. 

man 
I. man, in general. 

he plenty good kaikai one fellow man 
Gara. 

for killum man. G 232. 

man he dream him. Se173. 

so man he savy this fellow grave. Se 
623. 

another fellow man. Se 444. 

some place me go man he no good, 
L 361. 


46 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


man 
all man: everybody. V 252. 
chief he old man. W 143. 
2 with territorial designation. See black- 
man, whiteman. 

(a) place name preceding. 
Malekula man. G 207. 
Tanna man. G 243, 260. 

(b) place name following. 
Man-Sydney: white man. 
man-Matupi. W 290. 
man-Vila. W 143. 
man-Sandwich. W 144. 
man-bush. Glaumont: 

Hébrides 71. 

(c) place name with o’. 
man-o’-bush very good. W 284. 
man-o’-weewee: Frenchman. W 143. 
man-o’-war. W 144. 

3. husband. V 253. 
mana a Polynesian word which covers all 
the supernatural powers involved 
in wizardry, theinfluence of the god 
embodied in a man and equally in 
inanimate objects. 
man-o’=war hawk the frigate bird. 
maori See copper-maort. 
mary all women are so called generically. 
W 52, L360. Established in New 
Zealand before 1815, according to 
Nicholas. 
mary belong Malekula man. G 207. 
him fella Adam him want’m mary. 
L 363. 
mast two fellow mast: aschooner or ketch. 
master big fellow master: captains, traders, 
etc. SG 24. 
smallfellow master: sailors, etc. SG 
24. 
big fellow master too much: governor 
SG 24. 
big fella marster belong blackman: 
chief. L 359. 
god big fella marster belong white 
man. L 363. 
one fella marster belong god: angel. 
L 364. 
match that fellow break (to light) plenty 
match. W 96. 


W 284. 


Nouvelles- 


me 
1. subject. 
suppose me kitch him grass. SG 25. 
suppose me no see my island, me no 
lik’e you too much. J 77. 
me too much lazy. SG 29, 60. 
me cross long woman me rauss him. 
SG 109, 121. 
2. with fellow. 
(a) Aad good, me fellow me drink him. 
27. 
me fella me savee him. L 362. 
(6) dual. 
me two fellow Lagia: I and Lagia. 
106. 
me two fellow me fight down below, 
he likkilik allright now. SG 22. 
more good you me two fella we eat’m 
this fella apple. L 363. 





me object. 
he tell me takeum cutter big fellow 
hospital Ambrym. G 198. 
I think you give me big fellow to- 
bacco. G 223. 
belong me: my. 


meat kaikai meat along butcher. R 108. 
he all bone got no meat: to be thin. 
V 254. 


mebbe maybe, perhaps. 
suppose you killum killum plenty too 
much mebbe he die finish. 


medicine you give him medicine belong 


him. SG 23. 
milk like milk inside. R 101. 
misinari 


I. missionary. 
he make bad for misinari. G 232. 
2. that fine product known to Exeter Hall 
and the monthly concert as “‘the 
native Christian.” 


missi Miss G 212. 
missis big fellow missis. S 303. 

The differentiation of these two items 
is not regarded with precision, the 
estate being invisible and in the 
islander’s eyes not particularly 
holy; that any distinction appears 
in our material may be due to the 
fact that missi is reported by a 
maiden lady. 

money he put money, you kitch him money 
belong you. SG 24. 
moon month 

very good you speak three moon. 

W 373. 

more wantum one fellow water, two fellow 
water, we give; no wantum more. 
G 198. 

more better you come out. Se 383. 

more good you me two fella we eat’m 
this fella apple. L 363. 

makeno morecry: tocomfort. R144. 

mother father, mother he no wild. Se 567. 
move (of emotion felt) 

bal belong him he move he no sileep. 
SG 123. 

much see too much. 
how much you pay? W144. 
musket he give this fella marster belong 
god one big fella musket. L 364. 
my common in Mr. Ray’s vocabulary along 
with belong me; in general use be- 
long me is far more idiomatic. 
that fellow he belong my place. Se 
441. 


name see also what name. 
big fellow name. SG 23. 
what name ship? Ws. 


Adam he name belong him. L 363. 


VOCABULARY. 47 


no negative answer. 

Adam he speak ‘No!’ L 363. 

You savez me? No, no savez. 
290, SG 29. 

A confusing precision in the use of the 
negative and affirmative is illus- 
trated in this scrap of dialogue: 

‘‘What name here” [do you want 


anything]? 
**No.’’ 
Noe’ 
“Ves.” F 106. 


no adjective. 
here no kaikai. SG tro. 
no water stop. G35. 
he no proper man belong my place. 
Se 441, 587. 
no adverb: not. 
that fellow mary he no savvee carry 
yam. G 207, 232, SG 20,24, 110, 
116, 121, 123, Se 383, 444, 441, J 77 
no do not. 
no be fraid Jonni, he good fellow. 
SG 24. 
now see this time. 
he likkilik all right now. SG 22, G 
243, Se 623. 


nusipepa a letter, any written or printed 
document. 
he savvee look along nusipepa: he is 
able to read. 


© interjection. This is certainly derived 
from the English use, for the char- 
acteristicexclamation of the Melan- 
esians is e or some variant thereon; 
in the 35 languages collated by Dr. 
Codrington an exclamatory o is 
found in but one, the Efaté. 
o he no sabe pull. SG 24, 29, 123, 
G 223. 
oar tail belong him just like oar. R 118. 
of there are but few prepositions in island 
speech, even at its richest develop- 
ment, yet most of these several 
languages have recognized a few of 
the relations which we indicate by 
of, and in a large number of cases 
they employ o or a. Accordingly 
man-o’-bush and the like expres- 
sions show a degree of cordiality 
toward the preposition of possess- 
sion which is lacking toward other 
such words. 
piece of word: sentence. G 106. 
off bush stop far off gardens there. Se 614. 
old old time fashion. Se 323. 
he old man. W 143. 
small fellow old man belong tail: the 
monkey. 
on by-n’-by he goon. G 207. 
he stop on top. Re 114. 
one the same. 


he no one sulu (clan). Se 441. 


one 
1. as indefinite article. 
god he make’m one big fennis all 
around garden. L 364. 
bimeby one day Eve she come along 
Adam. L 363. 
I think you wantum one fellow head. 
G 223, 212, 198, 260. 
2. one time. 
(a) formerly, once. 
one time Lamanian man he keep a 
bee there. G 243. 
(b) once, at once. 
suppose you killum kanaka one time 
he sore. 


only only he one: alone. V 252, HW 97. 


or look out for spear good along fight or 
some boy he get himspear. Se 560. 


other all same other fellow belong simoke. 


Re 114. 
he got house other side Matupi. W 
290. 
outside my boy outside all time: away from 
home. V 252. 


pain see sore. 
one fellow pain. 
paper see nusipepa. 
housepaper: government office. HW 


SG 20. 


53> 
pappa pappa belong me he go finish yes’er- 
day. G 223. 


peasoup, pisupo 

This is the designation of all foreign 
foods which are preserved in tinned 
drums. Its origin is in fact less 
simple than might appear, for in 
the dietary schedule of the whalers 
pea soup was not put up in tins 
but freshly prepared in the galley 
when needed. ‘Soup and bully” 
was the only tinned food of such 
voyages. The term now covers 
all foods that come in round flat 
tins; beef is the staple article 
under this designation, for mutton, 
whether fresh or preserved, is gen- 
erally repugnant to the islander’s 
palate. Salmon is an exception to 
the peasoup classification, being 
known as samant. 


pickaninny child. Found in New Zealand 
in 1815 by Nicholas. 
pickaninny belong me. V 252. 
pickaninny stop along him fella: an 
egg. L361. 
Piece piece of word: sentence. R 106. 
break my people alla pieces. J 98. 
pig suppose me kaikai pig me die. SG 
121. 
pigeon any bird. V 252. 
grass belong pigeon: feather, V 253 


48 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


place fire place: crater. G 259. 
that fellow place you eatum dinner. 


G 259. 
that fellow he belong my place. Se 


441. 
some place me go man he no good. 


361. 
he catch him place: toarrive. V 252. 
suppose you come my place. Ro 252 
this place: here. 
that place: there. 

plantation in distinction this is used of the 

greater agricultural operations of 
the white men; the small farm 
patches of the islandersare gardens. 

play canoe belong play. V 254. 

plenty adjective. 

1.many. V 253. 
plenty boy die. 

2. abundance of. 
captain good man takee plenty wine. 


W 349, 96. 


98. 
no get him plenty kaikai. W 349, L 
363, SG 29. 
3. plenty time: frequently. 
he speak all-a-same plenty time. W 


373: 
plenty adverb. 
1. greatly, very. 

woman he look him, he run him, he 
kitch this fellow man, he speak him 
puss-puss, oh he puss-puss plenty. 

G 123. 

head belong him he break plenty. 
G 198. 

spit fire plenty. J 103. 

he plenty laugh. G 207, 232. 

by-n’by hearum plenty smell. G 


259. 
he pate good kaikai. G 212. 
talk plenty bad. V 254. 
you speak lie plenty. J 80. 
plenty all right. G 223. 
2. plenty too much: very great indeed. 
big fellow kaikai plenty too much. 
HW 1309, 53. 
presents W 386. 
proper right, fit. 
he no proper man belong my place. 
Se 441. 
no proper word belong talk: incom- 
prehensible. Se 587. 
correct. V 252. 
you like me proper: tolove. V 253. 
pull to row a boat; see washee to paddle. 
he no sabe pull. SG 24. 
little fellow bokkus you pull him he 
ery: accordeon. 
puss-puss to love, see page 30. 4 
he speak him puss-puss: she tells him 
that she loves him, for this is 
savage life. SG 123. 
o he puss-puss plenty. | SG 123. 
he puss-puss belong this fellow. SG 
123. 
this aw mary he no good, he 
make him too much puss-puss be- 
long all Buka. F 105. 


put to set, to give. 

white man he hear him he put money. 
Sg 24. 

suppose you no puthim down very 
good. G 207. 

he make’m one fella man and put’m 
along garden. L 363. 

put eye on me too much: to stare at. 
V 254. 


quick yam he break very quick. G 207. 


rain rain he stop: to be raining. L 360. 
rauss big fellow marster he rauss me. HW 
53, SG 109, 110. 
reef he find him along reef. Se 173. 
right oh, he all right, he right, plenty all 
right. G 223. 
all right all right, he small now, bymbye 
he big. Se 623. 
bimeby Adam he tired too much and 
he speak “‘all right.” L 363. 
yes I killum all right. G 21s. 
you no good, you dead; he tell ‘‘no, 
all right.”” G 198. 
he likkilik all right now. SG 22, 23, 


25. 
road give me good road: to direct aright. 


253. 
he come back because of bad road. 
R 136. 
rogue Aipus was a bloody rogue. V 253. 
roll he roll up swag: to collect one’s prop- 
erty. V 253. 
rope see line. 


rope along bush: a liana. Ro7. V 
253, 254. 
round I been look round before. V 254. 
row have a row: to quarrel. V 253. 


run woman he look him, herun him: torun 
after. SG 123. 
too much run about: to waste time. 
V 254. (more commonly walk 
about.) 


saild sailho! ‘The cry dates from the old 
beachcombing days when the 
islanders were instructed that this 
was a call that must be repeated 
when once heard and repeated 
until it was heard taken up at yet 
more remote distance. The habit 
remains, although the loneliness of 
the white exile’s life on the beaches 
is somewhat more frequently inter- 
rupted and the sighting of the 
distant sail is no longer the break 
of the monotony, moving him to 
seclusion in the bush for avoidance 
or to the beach for enjoyment, 
according as his hidden knowledge 
of his past may govern his present. 


VOCABULARY. 49 


salt man-Sydney no good, too much salt. 
W 284. 
samani tinned salmon; see peasoup. 


same, all same 
I, just as. 
all same dark you can’t see. Se 610. 
all same sick he no savvee kaikai. 
L 363. 
all same mary she talk along boy. 
L 363. 
2. like, to resemble. 
plenty good, Missi, all same one 
fellow chicken. G 212. 
all same fire. V 253, R 120. 
all along same as: to resemble. V 
253. 
all the same one: alike. V 252. 
this fellow no all the same. W 144. 
3. that, with explicit particularity. 
that fellow place you eatum dinner, 
all same place Tannaman he eat 


woman. G 260. 
he speak all-a-same plenty time. W 
373- 


savvy to know, to know how, to understand 
to comprehend, to believe, to be 
able. 
1. absolute, to be wise. 
you sabe too much. SG 25. 
2. in negative response. 
no savez, Cap. W 290. 
3. governs a verb directly. 
this fellow he no sabe talk along white 
man. SG 20. 
henosabe pull. Sg 24, G 207, L 362. 
4. governs a direct object. 
you no savvee white man, me fella 
me savvee him. L 362, G 259. 
5. to be able. 
chief he old man he no savey walk 
good. W143 
all the same sick he no savvee kaikai. 
L 363. 
6. he savez that another kind: to know 
better. Se 623. 
say me (eR along him say bokkis he stop 
362. 
god say “‘what name?” L 363. 
schooner G 232. More commonly two 
fellow mast. 
scrub see bush. 
they fright like hell and they go hide 
along scrub. L 363-4. 
see all same dark you can’t see. Se 610. 
see you no: donot. V 253. 
sent me shiver sent: I shivered. V 254. 
she subject. Thegender distinction is rare, 
see he. 
she carry yam all-a-time. G 207. 
shift to move. V 253. 
ship W 1s. ; 
shiver me shiver sent: I shivered. V 254. 
shoot s’pose you look’m these two fella 
Adam Eve you shoot’m plenty too 
much. L 364. 





short short man. HW 53. 
short of wind: breathless. V 252. 


shove little fellow bokkus you shove him he 
cry, you pull him he cry: accordeon. 


sick see bad. 
all the same sick. L 363. 


side he got house other side Matupi. W 
290. 

This place and other side are very fre- 
quent position designations on the 
smaller islands, not only in the 
Beach-la-mar but in the proper 
languages of the several islands. 

sing see cry. 
sing out 

hearum sing out: hear the noise of 
the eruption. G 259. 

what name you sing out along me? 
L 362. 

he sing out ‘‘Adam!” L 363. 

time wild fowl he sing out. V 253. 

sing-sing adance. SG 125, W13. 

asong. L 361. 

skin skin belong me heavy: to be thirsty. 
V 254. 
sky half-way in sky. R ror. 

all along same as island in sky. V 

252. 
sleep me sleep strong fella too much. L 
363. 

woman he hear him, bal belong him 
he move, he no sileep. SG 123. 

sun he go down, he gosleep. W 349. 

slew slew, slew round, slew behind: to 
turn. V 254. 

bone along me slew: to be bewitched. 
V 252. 

slush to anoint. 

that fellow mary he slush’m grass be- 
long head too much stink: to dress 
the hair with perfumed oil. 

small of size, and a general diminutive. 

he smallnowbymbyehe big. Se 623. 

small bush in garden: weeds. R 122. 

small father: father’s younger 
brother. V 253. 

small talk: to whisper. V 254. 

small boy: foolish. V 253. 

cook him small hot: underdone. V 
253. 

small fellow master. SG 24, 23, R 
121, L 360. 

talk small fellow: to promise not to. 
V 253. 

smart he look very smart: to act quickly. 
Vi 253, 


| smell see siznk. 


bymby hearum smell. G 259. 
smoke all same other fellow belong smoke. 
Re 114. 
so so manhe savy this fellow grave. Se 623. 
so Adam Eve these two fella go along 
scrub, L 364. 
some some boy he get him spear. 
some place me go. L 361. 


Se 560. 


50 BEACH-LA-MAR. 


something he feel something bad in heart: 
angry. V 252. 
small fellow something he go belong 
bush: the land crab. S 303. 
small fellow something he come he 
kaikai all finish: ant. S 304. 


sore hurt, pain, smart: as noun and as verb. 
suppose you killum kanaka one time 
he sore, suppose you killum killum 
plenty too much mebbe he die 
finish. 


sorry bymby he sorry he no take him. Se 


444. 
they sorry for boy: to pity. V 253. 
speak 
1. to speak to, to address. 
me speak cappen belong man-o’war. 


144. 

he like speak you. W 143. 

he speak him puss-puss. SG 123. 

me speak along him say bokkis he 
stop. L 362. 

2. to say. 

he speak wantum one fellow water. 
G 198. 

you speak lie plenty. J 8o. 

speak we come along three moon. 


W 373- 
he speak ‘‘this fella garden he belong 
FOIL ibs L305. 
3. to ask. 
he speak how much you pay. W144. 
4. to talk about. 
you speak too much taboo. S$Gi1z21. 
5. me no speak: to assent. V 252. 


he speak straight: to tell the truth. 
V 254. 

no speak out. V 254. 

speak very low: to whisper. 

spear, sipia 

look out for spear good along fight. 
Se 560. 

some boy he get him spear: to be 
speared. Se 560. 


V 254. 


spell 
1. to rest. 
he spell for little. V 253. 
2. a resting period, an interval. 

you give me spell. V 253. 

he makeum lazy one spell bymbye he 
work plenty strong fellow. 

spirit spirit belong all white men no good. 
P 266. 
spit 
1. swallow spit: to covet. 
2.jealous. V 253. 
spoil he been spoil us: to bewitch. V 252. 
quareface bottle. 

This is good sailor English for the gin 
bottle of that geometry; before the 
passage of the Western Pacific acts 
such bottles with contents of vitri- 
olic property were articles of trade. 
The name has been extended to in- 
clude all forms of glassware, no 
matter what the shape. 


V 253. 





stink to be odoriferous, whatever the quality 

of the odor. 

suppose me kitch him grass he die he 
stink. SG 25, 117. 

water belong stink: perfumery. 

apple belong stink: onion. 

slush belong stink: coconut oil 
scented with ilangilang. 


stone he make strongandlikestone. V 252. 


stop almost a general substantive verb. 

1. to be. 
nowater stop:thereisnowater. G35. 
bush stop far off. Se 614. 
rain he stop: it rains. L 360. 
coconut belong him grass no stop. 
me speak along him say bokkiss he 

stop: is my property. L 362. 
Tologga stop: is here. W 289. 

2. to be in a position relative. 
he stop on top. Re 114. 
stop behind. G 207. 

3. to live in. 
two white men stop Matupi. W 290, 
144. 

when he stop along his island. W 
349, V 252. 

he look out all man stop this place. 
W 386. 

pickaninny stop along him fella: an 
egg. L361. 

4. to prevent. 
why you stop him get hurt? Wa1s2. 


straight 
he talk straight: to speak plainly. 


254. 
speak straight: to tell the truth. 


V 254. 
strong you fellowstrong along fight. Se 

560, SG 124. 

he make strong like stone: brave. 
V 252. 

suppose he work strong fellow. W 
349. 

me sleep strong fella too much. L 
363. 


sugar he work along sugar cane. W 349. 

sugar-bag: comb full of honey. R 
127. 

sulu Fijian sulu. 

The fold of cloth wrapped around the 
waist and covering the legs more 
or less. 

sun sun he come up, sun he go down. 
W 349. 

suppose suppose he work strong fellow 
white fellow he no hit him. W 349, 
SG 25, 121, G 207, J 77. 

s’pose you look’m these two fella. L 
364. 

swag portable property, provision for a 
march. 

he roll up swag. V 253. 

swallow swallow spit: to covet. 


swill down: to drink. V 253. 


V 253. 


VOCABULARY. 51 


tabu any matter that is forbidden. 
you speak too much tabu. SG 121. 
one fella tree he tambo along you 


altogether. L 363. 
tail tail belong him (the stingray) just 
like oar. R118. 
small fellow old man belong tail: the 
monkey. 


take to carry, to take, to have. 
1. only takee tea. HW 97. 

he sorry he no take him. Se 444. 

cappen you been take me along three 
year. W 373. 

he tell me takeum cutter big fellow 
hospital. G 198. 

he take one fella bone belong him. L 
363, Se 560. 

fellow belong simoke me take him all 
time long cigar: a cigar holder. 


Re 114. 
2. you take him he come: bring here. Re 
II4. 
that schooner no takee-him come-him 
friend. G 232. 


3. take cold heart: mildtempered. V 253. 
talk to speak. 


this fellow he no sabe talk long white - 


man. SG 20. 
all he talk: they all say. SG 121. 
no proper word belong talk. Se 587. 
Eve she talk talk talk allee time. L 


363. 

talk along boy. L 363. 

talk too much crooked: to deceive. 
V 253. 

talk big: to promise. V 253. 

talk small fellow: promise not. 


LRe 
talk straight: to speak plainly. V 


254. 
talk plenty bad belong man: to 


swear. V 354. 

taro the bulb of Caladium esculentum. L 
363. 

tea HW 97. 


tell to speak, to order. 


1. he tell me takeum cutter. G 198, 223. 
2. to say. 
he tell ‘‘no, all right.”” G 198. 
3. to ask. 
we tell ‘‘ what name we go Ambrym?” 
G 198. ’ 
inside tell himself: to consider. V 
252. 
ten two fellow ten one fellow: twenty-one. 
W 53. 


that the distant demonstrative, idiomati- 
cally supported by fellow. 
that schooner. G 232, 259. 
that boy. Se 567. 
he do that. Se 567, 623. 
that fellow that fellow he belong my 
place. Se 441. 
you savvy that fellow place. G 259, 
207, 232. 
the all the boy. W 373, G 243, 259. 





then more idiomatically thai time. 
bymby he go on then you coming. 
G 207. 
there commonly that place, all same place. 
he keep a bee there. G 243. 
bush stop far off gardens there. Se 


614. 
these the plural distinctionisan unnecessary 
refinement. 
Adam Eve these two fella. L 364. 
thing not in common use. 
best thing you learn us. V 254. 
think I think he plenty cross. G 232, 223, 


243. 
heart along him think. V 254. 
I think you give mebig fellow tobacco: 
to hope. G 223. 
we think he eat: perhaps. V 253. 
this the near demonstrative, idiomatically 
supported by fellow. 
this time: now 
suppose this fellow man he sabe. SG 
25, Se 623. 
he puss-puss belong this fellow. SG 


124. 
this fellow he no sabe talk. SG 20. 
by and by this fellow he die. SG 26. 
this fellow he good. SG 27. 
three particularly noted in speech because 
of the underlying trinal number. 
three moon. W 349, 373, G 260. 
three fellow. HW 53. 
me three fellow: trinal, I and two 
others. 
throat my throat he fast:tobedumb. V 
253. 
tight half-tight: scarcity of water. V 252. 
tik=a=tik watch. R 168. 
time 
I. no got time: to be unable. 
2. all time: always. 
he go all time: a watch or clock. 
Re 114. 
we fellowstop all time along Mabuiag. 
V 252. 
she carry yam all-a-time. 
he walk about all the time. 
talk allee time. L 363. 
look along us two fella all’m time. 


G 207. 
L 363. 


L 363. 
3. first time: formerly. V 253. 
4. good time. 
they two fella have’m good time too 
much. L 363. 


5. long time. 
he look daylight a long time: to lie 
awake. V 252. 
long time fashion: old custom. V 


253. 
stop Matupi long time ago. W 290. 
6. old time: ancient. 
old time fashion. Se 323. 
7. one time: once, at once. V 253. 
one time Lamanian man he keep a 
bee there: formerly. G 243. 


52 


time 
8. plenty time: often, frequently. 
he speak all-a-same plenty time. 
W 373. 
9g. that time: then. this time: now. 
tired bimeby Adam he tired too much. L 
363. 
white man he tired too much close up 
all same blackboy he bloody lazy: 
when a whiteman refrains from 
work you say it’s because he is 
exhausted, but when the kanaka 
stops to rest you call him ‘‘bloody 
1SZV 
to get to hell. L364. 
tobacco you give me big fellow tobacco. G 


223. 
tomahawk W 386. 

brother belong tamiok he comehego: 
asaw. F100. 

This is the Colonial designation of the 
hatchet in distinction from the 
‘‘American axe.”’ That tomahawk 
has passed into Beach-la-mar and 
axe has not is doubtless due to the 
fact that the blade when sold as a 
tomahawk is promptly dismounted 
from its hatchet helve and reas- 
sembled as an adze, a process to 
which the axe less readily lends 
itself. 

too color like curry, he bite too. R95. 
too much the usual method of indicating 
a superlative. 
big fellow master too much: governor 


SG 24. 
big fellow master plenty too much: 
governor. HW 53. 


you sabe too much. SG 25. 

me too much lazy. SG 29, W 284. 

too much work. SG 29, Ro 252. 

too much a moon (many). J 95. 

too much he fraid. Se 162. 

he too much fright. Se 552, W 349. 

what for you too much a pool? me 
no lik’e you too much. J 77. 

top he stop on top: to be above. Re 114. 
top: mountain. S 310. 
trash to throw away. 
trash him: to weed. W 349. 
trouble make’m trouble along boy. L 363. 
true he strong, he good, be true. SG 124. 
tumble down to die. 

The full locution ‘‘tumble down 
blackfellow jump up whitefellow”’ 
is used in Australia to describe 
what is popularly regarded as a 
belief of the aborigines in metem- 
psychosis. I have never heard the 
complete phrase in Beach-la-mar, 
and have never encountered such 
a belief in reincarnation among the 
island savages. In a modest way 
they look upon the white folk as a 
queer lot into whose existence it 
would prove scantily attractive to 
be born anew. 











BEACH-LA-MAR. 


two particularly noted in speech because of 
the underlying dual number. 
two white men. W 290, G 260. 
he cross along Adam Eve two fella. 
L 364, HW 53, G 108. 
me two fella: I and one other. 


up come up. 
full up. 


very except as very good this is better ex- 
pressed by plenty or too much. 
yam he break very quick. G 207. 
speak very low. V 254. 


very good 
suppose you no put him down very 
good. G 207. 
very good you no go firs’. G 207, W 


373- 
man-o’bush very good. W 284. 
: very good belong boil yam. W 122. 
village Se 162. 


wail wail like hell: to be angry. R115. 
walk no savvey walk good. W 143. 


walk about 
1. to walk. 
god he come walk about along garden. 


363. 
2.to goashore. L 360. 
3. to be in motion. 
that fella boom he walk about too 
much. L 360. 
big fella clam, kaikai he no stop he 
walk about. L 360. 
4. belly belong me walk about too much: 
seasick. L 360. 
5. to do nothing, to be idle. 
he no savvee kaikai, he walk about 
too much. L 363. 


want to desire. 

girl no want him. Se 567. 

he speak wantum one fellow water. 
G 198, 223. 

washee a paddle, a sweep, an oar, to row. 
L 361. 

This is the vernacular name of the 
paddle, Polynesian fohe, Melan- 
esian vose, see ‘‘ Polynesian Wan- 
derings,”’ page 429. 

watch to observe. 

you watch me good: carefully. V 

252. 
water any fluid regardless of potability. 

water belong stink: perfumery. R 
II4. 

wantum one fellow water. G 198, 35. 
Se 383. 

way see long way. 


we subject. G 198. 


fashion belong we fellow. V 253. 


VOCABULARY. 53 


week two, three, four week. G 260. 
weewee man-o-weewee: French. W 143. 
well well, I eatum jus’ little fellow bit. G 


246. 
what for what for he do that? Se 567, W 
258, 373, J 77. 
what name what; why, S 300; how. V 
253; who, V 254. 
what name lady he maki cry? SG 
27, 29. 


what name we go Ambrym? G 198. 
god say ‘‘whatname? Menosavvee 
what name this fella Adam he 


want.” L 363. 
what name you sing out along me. 
L 362-3. : 
Eve she speak ‘‘Gammon! What 
name? L 363. 
when when they finish eat’m. L363. 


where where you come from? W115. 
where he stop? V 254. 
whitefellow see note under blackman. W 


349. 
whitefellow blackman: a black in 
clothing. HW 53. 


whiteman no sabe talk long whiteman. 
SG 20, 24, L 362. 


spirit belong all white men. P 266, 
W 290. 
wife wife belong you. Se 383. 


wild 
1. wild fowl he sing out. V 253. 
2. bad-tempered, cross, angry. V 253. 
father, mother he no wild. Se 567. 
he wild like hell. V 252. 
he wild inside. V 253. - 





wind man-Sandwich no make big wind. 
144. 
short of wind: breathless. V 252. 
wine HW 08. 
wire in to eat. 

In every instance in which I have 
heard the expression it has always 
struck me as the conscious use of 
fine language, as though my canni- 
bal host extended the invitation to 
partake of his hospitality, not with 
the common kaikai, but with the 
implied suggestion “‘as you white 
men say”’ wire in. 

with I love you proper with my heart in- 
side. V 253. 

woman me cross long woman me rauss 
him. SG 109, 123, G 260. 

word no proper word belong talk. Se 587. 

piece of word: sentence. R 106. 

you give me bad word: advice. V 
252. 

you look out, my word. Ro 252, W 
96, L 361-3. 

work too much work. SG 29, rio. 
he work alonga sugarcane. W 349. 


yam you buy yam? 
L 363. 
fine yam. V 253. 
yarn a true story, narrative of an actual 
event. R98. 
all yarn: converse. 


W 15, 122, G 207, 


V 252. 


to tell tales. V 254. 
year take me along three year. W 373. 
he come three years. W 349. 


yes SG 29, 124, G 215, W 123, 290, L 363. 
yesterday G 223, W 386. 
you you give him medicine. SG 23, 24, 25, 
G 198, 207, 223, 259, 260. 
you fellow look out forspear. Se56o 
all same dark you can’t see. Se 610. 


HW 


BIBLIOGRAPHY AND REFERENCES. 


Frieperici, Gkorc. Pidgin-Englisch in Deutsch-Neuguinea. Berlin: Koloniale 
Rundschau, 1911, p. 92. 

GRIMSHAW, BEATRICE. Fiji and its Possibilities (From Fiji to the Cannibal 
Islands). New York: Doubleday, Page & Company, 1907. 

Hess#-WARTEGG, ERNST VON. Samoa, Bismarckarchipel und Neuguinea, drei 
deutsche Kolonien in der Stidsee. Leipzig: J. J. Weber, 1902. 

Jacoss, THOMAS JEFFERSON. Scenes, Incidents and Adventures in the Pacific 
Ocean. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1844. 

LONDON, JOHN. Beche de Mer English. London: Contemporary Review No. 
525, D. 359, 1909. 

PARKINSON, R. Dreissig Jahre in der Siidsee: Land und Leute, Sitten und 
Gebrauche im Bismarckarchipel und auf den deutschen Salamoinseln. Stutt- 
gart: Strecker & Schréder, 1907. 

Ray, SIDNEY H. Reports of the Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres 
Straits: vol. III, Linguistics. Cambridge: University Press, 1907. 

ReINECKE, Dr. F. Samoa. Berlin: Wilhelm Siisserott (1902). 

RomiILLy, Huca Hastincs. From my Verandah in New Guinea: Sketches and 
Traditions. London: David Nutt, 1889. 

ScHNEE, Dr. Hernricu. Bilder aus der Siidsee: Unter den kannibalischen 
Stammen des Bismarck-Archipels. Berlin: Dietrich Reimer, 1904. 

Sr#paan, Dr. Emit, und Dr. Frirz GRAgBNER. Neu-Mecklenburg (Bismarck- 
Archipel): die Kiiste von Umuddu bis Kap St. Georg. Berlin: Dietrich 
Reimer, 1907. 

SELIGMANN, Dr. C. G. The Melanesians of British New Guinea. Cambridge: 
University Press, 1910. > 

Ray, Sipnéy H. (ut supra). Vocabulary of the Jargon English of Torres Straits 
under 170 entries. 

Wawn, Wi.1am T. The South Sea Islanders and the Queensland Labour Trade: 
a Record of Voyages and Experiences in the Western Pacific, from 1875 to 
1891. London: Swan Sonnenschein & Co., 1893. 

WALKER, H. Wi.FRID. Wanderings among South Sea Savages and in Borneo and 
the Philippines. London: Witherby & Co., 1909. 


54 


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